


From a Fawn to a Doe

by SilentFrenzy



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elucien - Freeform, F/M, So here we are, bc i'm an idiot duh, but I had to get this out of my system, why i am starting this idfk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentFrenzy/pseuds/SilentFrenzy
Summary: "You can defend yourself, and you need to start. You've just been made to believe you can't - by yourself and by their enabling. You don't need me or anyone to speak for you, but I couldn't listen to it anymore. I don't care what they think my intentions are as long as they are clear to you, but I do care how they make you feel so small. And I will not sit and cower to Illyrians. Or your sister. And certainly not Rhysand. Too prideful for that," he said with a grimace before he became serious again. "I meant what I said. I don't want you to think I am something I am not. As people will tell you - my fox mask wasn't an accident." He gave her a look, amusement touching his good eye while the other clicked. "Not to mention how I am an incredibly bad influence, already have you snapping at people and everything.""I will judge who I think you are, and will take everyone else's opinions with a grain of salt and wait to see for myself.” As she should have long before.
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 44
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, this was meant to be a one-shot, but of course I have no self control or any ability to edit my shit down to an appropriate amount soooo I gave up to avoid making it too rushed (even though a whole new WIP is the last thing I need). So this story will have at least a few chapters! No idea how often I will update this. I have more written, but it is certainly not finished, so I apologize if it takes me forever to update it.
> 
> This starts out with much less angst than my fics usually start with, but knowing me it'll probably show up later. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Elain ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass, her eyes unfocused and dulled. She tried to focus her thoughts, her means to move forward, but she couldn’t even start with the date. The days had been blurring together for quite a while, every day becoming the same. She couldn’t imagine how she would break from routine, how she would escape. She _had_ to escape. She was going mad.

She jumped a little when she was startled by the knock at the door. She covered her mouth as she set her glass down, blinking towards the sound. 

She was alone in the house.

She pressed her lips together as she hesitated. She was instructed _not_ to open the door, but she was also always treated as a small child by her sisters - and it was her sisters who had told her not to open the door. 

Elain glared at the knob for a few moments, taking another drink of the nearly irresistible wine - wine that she had also been _advised_ not to drink - before stalking over to the door and yanking it open, indignant as she was suddenly quite annoyed at the idea of her sisters parenting her as they had always parented her. 

She stumbled back a few steps, the determined set of her face falling slack into a blank, staring expression. 

"Elain." Lucien. 

_Lucien_ . Her _mate_. 

Her mate, there, frowning at her though his eyes flashed wildly with something that was purely feral. A sight that she would have thought would frighten her, but instead just made her throat close slightly. "Is Feyre here?"

His words were soft, cautious. Cautious, but not… _Patronizing_. Not in that soothing, almost pitiful way of approach as the others so often used. 

Her jaw set and she stepped back, holding the door open for him, surprising herself with her odd pang of resentment towards her sister - towards _anyone_ else - who had a visitor rather than her. She never had visitors. And _this_ visitor… This was meant to be _her_ visitor. 

And it infuriated her that it wasn't.

She watched him carefully step inside and she slowly closed the door and locked it behind him. His movements caused his scent to travel and settle over her - spicy with a dark sort of sweetness, the sensual warm notes of it mixed with earthy and natural undertones. Such a contrast to the cooler scented men of the Night Court. 

Such a _better_ contrast. 

"No. She isn't here."

His lips parted and his eyebrows twitched as she threw him off with her actions and words. And her cool tone, her cool tone that she didn't understand herself. She never used such a tone - certainly not with a guest. He glanced back at the door as he seemed to contemplate why she would let him in - fearful little Elain. 

She bit her tongue, holding her chin up as she was determined to not show her own faltering at herself. She was being unfair to him with her bitter thoughts, as the last time he had seen her she _had_ been terribly fearful. And broken. 

But she would _always_ be broken in her sisters' eyes. It was suffocating her and making it so difficult to heal. How could they be more suffocating than this man who had a magical, age old connection to her?

"Can I help you?"

He blinked, his eyes flicking towards the table where her glass sat before returning to hers, his lips fighting to lift up at the corners as a sort of understanding amusement filled his gaze that mixed with the look of vulnerable wonder until it covered it completely.

Those eyes… So mismatched and only one authentic. Somehow they were more beautiful than any other set of eyes she had ever seen. Was that the bond or was that her own self truly taken by his appearance? No, it couldn't just be the bond. He was exquisite - an art piece. Ethereal. Why must she _always_ be so girlish about handsome men?

But he wasn't a handsome man. He was a High Fae, and he was her _mate_.

Her mate. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around that concept. But here, with him so close, she could truly feel it there - the bond. The bond that was not filling her with heavy and bitter dread once it came to mind as it had so many, many times before. 

"Ah," he confirmed knowingly after assessing the table, her drink, and she watched his stance slacken a bit. He nodded before bowing his head forward slightly in respect.

She crossed her arms, her cheeks heating. Whether they were warm with irritation or embarrassment she didn't know, likely both, but she cursed herself in her head for allowing it. Not that she had ever been able to control the ridiculous amount she _blushed_ before. 

"Can I help you," she repeated, her tone stronger. Rude. She sounded rude. 

What - was she _Nesta_ now? 

"Can you _help_ me?" He raised an eyebrow before shrugging, his eyes not breaking from hers. "No idea, dove. _Will_ you?"

Before she could stutter out a slightly panicked response to his casual, lighthearted flirting, his mouth turned into an authentic smile. "I am here to see Feyre. I have not spoken to her in awhile, nor have I received any updates on what has been going on or if anything at all has been going on for that matter."

His smile was so warm, it lit up his entire face - made his eyes come to life like embers under a breeze.

"She isn't here. I suppose you're stuck with me."

Literally.

He seemed to have the same thought, but there was no bitterness on his face. She didn't know why. _She_ would be bitter in his position. But his eyes only burned back into hers.

"Pity." He tsked. "I might be needing a drink too then I suppose." _Sarcasm_ ? He was _teasing_ her with _sarcasm_?

"And I will be needing another," she replied, making a show of looking him up and down, surprising herself again when she automatically fell into his banter with him before she ducked her head to hide her smile.

"Ouch. Didn't know you bit back." And she didn’t know he would give her the chance too. He did not show this side of him _at all_ before. Perhaps she had been too far gone to gauge him properly.

"Yes, well. Most don't. That's Nesta's job."

She turned and handed him the drink she had poured him, noticing the way he was careful about not touching her hand when he took it. 

"Feyre got the hang of it after a couple days with me, but you are far quicker than she ever was. And I am quite sure she had the servant advise her to do so before she had the courage. So - I didn't expect such agility going off of my assumption that was based on comparisons between the two of you."

“Well. I suppose I have been bored enough to jump on any opportunity to put effort into conversation,” she sighed, taking a large drink before covering her mouth and waving a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to whine and complain at you. I shouldn’t behave so ungratefully seeing as they are allowing me to live here.”

He watched her curiously before the corners of his lips curled in amusement, taking a drink himself. 

"Looking back on my time living with Feyre - I am sure it is dreadfully dull. Not to mention having to live with a freshly and fully mated male and female."

She felt herself flush and quickly averted her gaze before he quickly rushed on, realizing his words. “Feyre accepted the bond - it’s much different once that occurs. Much different from where we stand at the moment. Not that we do stand anywhere at the moment. Of course there never has to be any step forward, as that is entirely up to you and I want you to know I expect nothing of you.” 

_There_ was the male she remembered. It boosted her confidence to see him falter, yet made _her_ falter to be brought back to those times - to be reminded of the anguish and anxieties this version of him had brought down on her.

"You're nervous," Elain declared, attempting to channel her older sister's straightforwardness as she shoved off the thoughts of the two of them behaving as Feyre and Rhysand behaved. They were so incredibly shameless most of the time. "I can hear it, and f-" she broke off, swallowing. 

"And what?" 

"And feel it."

A slow smile spread across his striking face and his head cocked the smallest amount to the side. He was very clearly nowhere _near_ as nervous as he had been before. Before the war. Before she was barely stringing more than two sentences together at a time. He had seemed so lost and uncomfortable then, just as she was. Clearly he had regained some of his footing.

She had never thought to take the comparisons of Lucien to a fox so literally, but it was almost comical how close he captured the image of one in that moment.

"Yes. I am nervous, Elain," he said softly after watching her for a while, his gaze falling into something sincere and searching as he let his mask fall for her once more. 

The sound of her name on his lips… She shivered ever so slightly as though to shake off what the way he said her name did to her. 

"Why haven't you come? The war… It ended a while ago. Why haven't you come home?"

"This isn’t… This isn’t my home," he said, confusion coloring his features. 

There was a small lurch in her stomach and she fought the impulsive, absurd protest to such a statement that the bond attempted to yank from her.

Home was where _she_ was, wasn't it?

"So you went to your home with Vassa?" She caught her mistake quickly before she added Jurian's name.

Not quickly enough.

The jealousy that came ripping down her throat and through her lungs was a feeling so foreign to her that she had to take a step back, feeling dazed as she tried to comprehend her reactions to him. This wasn’t how she had felt around him before at all.

"No. Not my home with Vassa." She would have expected the words to be spoken with an air of arrogant amusement, but instead he only gave them to her in a murmur. A spark flashed through his good eye. "... Or Jurian."

There it was.

She knew her face flushed completely scarlet then, embarrassed and hot at the clear mimicking of her wording - the taunting. She knew he knew. Knew he felt that scalding envy. He didn’t need the bond, because he had to know just on the simple matter that his court wielded fire and he would definitely know how to recognize it.

And Elain was most certainly burning.

"I wasn't -" She shouldn't even waste her breath on such a blatant lie - not when his eyes seemed to see every single part of her inside and out, completely stripping her bare in front of him. She had never stood before a person with such a penetrating gaze. She fought her urge to squirm beneath it.

"Of course you weren't."

"Where is your home then?" She asked, ignoring the sarcasm and running her finger around the brim of her glass again before tipping more wine into it, needing its aid.

"I don't know."

Her head jerked up to attention at the emotion behind those words. Layers and layers of emotions built up over the years were written across his face, his golden eye whirring at her, but in a blink it was all gone. 

The story on his face had gone, but the feelings did not dismiss themselves so quickly, and she could suddenly very strongly feel his pain and loneliness - helplessness. Yearning. 

Her nostrils flared slightly as her breath caught and she felt her eyes brim with tears as she immediately was struck with the blow behind his confession. 

Then it was gone. Instantly cut off as quickly as he had wiped the expression off of his face. As though he had made himself go completely blank, like someone had come to sweep out all of the thoughts and feelings from his head. A defense he was surely practiced in.

She put a hand on her stomach as she frowned at the floor, her eyes unfocused as she recovered herself from the intense, alien feelings that had attacked her. She shook her head quickly, straightening again and smoothing her hands over her dress. 

"I'm sorry. I will try not to let that happen again." She heard the clear discomfort in his voice and he averted his gaze from hers. 

She wanted to push, she wanted him to open up. She needed to know, the bond they shared being a driving force in that need. She reeled it in, swallowing. Clearly he wanted to keep behind the safety of his mask, and he already looked as though his privacy had been violated. She understood. She didn't know him well enough to pry - wasn't _ready_ to know him well enough to pry. Not that prying was appropriate no matter how well you knew a person, though one would think it was considering how people behaved there.

She went to take another drink of her wine before stopping herself. She had had enough as it was, and didn’t need more to face him, _shouldn’t_ need more. She couldn’t let herself fall into the role of a frightened mouse again. She refused. She had come too far.

Foxes ate mice, didn’t they?

"Weighing your options?"

"On?"

He nodded towards the wine. 

"Oh! Yes. I was considering if you may need something that isn't so strong," she said, peering into his nearly full cup and frowning up at him. "If it's too much for you I can find you something a bit lighter?"

He stared at her for a moment before choking out a laugh, shaking his head back and forth as though to shake off his surprised amusement. When she still stood there expectantly he tossed back the rest of the wine. 

"I can out drink anyone, but I appreciate the wit," he chuckled.

" _Anyone_?" Sounds like a challenge.

"A challenge I certainly will _not_ be taking from a newly made High Fae girl in her _twenties_ ," he said dully. 

Her eyes went wide, horrified. "Don't do that!"

"Do what?"

"Read my thoughts!"

"I'm not. They were just too clear not to hear."

Elain stiffened at the approaching steps, the door opening and, with her great history of luck clearly still holding strong, the whole lot of them apart from Mor and Amren poured in. 

Lucien stepped to the side and away from the entrance he was in front of to allow them through, away from her as well. Elain didn't move. She wouldn't scramble around as though she had done something wrong. 

She clenched her teeth together and focused on a spot on the wall across from her so she would not see all of the looks on their faces and quickly filled her glass to the top, taking a deep breath before downing it in one, long drink, eyes still trained on the spot. She already felt as though she was near exploding as it was. She did not want to stoop to the level of a tantrum.

Nesta went to her to quickly inspect her before whirling around to look to Lucien with disgusted, accusing eyes.

“Why did you come? Did something happen?" Feyre asked him, frowning in concern. 

"Well?" Feyre pressed when Lucien didn't answer and instead kept his eyes on Elain as she drained the glass.

"Well what?" He asked in a different sort of tone, cocking his head at her sister. Feyre narrowed her eyes after a few moments as she caught on, earning a wink from him. Clearly something between them that only they knew. 

"Reminiscing all the way back to the beginning are we? Sweet that you remember our first meeting so clearly. Hopefully that means you're back to your old self and that Vassa and Jurian have been good for you. Though I may have to be concerned you want me dead again if that’s true."

Yes, Vassa had done so much for him, hadn’t she? While Elain had only avoided him. She could only blame herself for that.

"Don't worry - I didn't manage to swipe any of your kitchen knives to hide in my sleeves for any plans of homicide."

Elain tried to ignore her growing anger towards them all eyeing her and throwing her glances, shifting uncomfortably. She noticed Lucien shift himself ever so slightly along with her, towards her as though he noticed the small action of discomfort and aversion. So aware of her - completely in tune in every sense.

"Did you really try to use a kitchen knife on a High Fae?" Cassian scoffed, grinning as he sized Feyre up. Rhysand snorted loudly before excusing himself and slipping out of the room. 

Good. Hopefully Feyre had _High Lady_ duties to tend to as well.

"Oh, she _really_ did. She even made a cute little booby trap behind her door that was impressive enough to trip up her incredibly dangerous, squat little maid."

" _Well_ , can I help you?" Feyre asked, rolling her eyes though her cheeks colored the smallest amount.

"No. You can't," Elain said before he could reply, her words coming out more clipped than she had intended. "He came to see me." 

Elain looked to Lucien, meeting his eyes in front of the room to hold his gaze as everyone watched, fighting to hold on to her nerve. "I will get a coat." She moved towards the stairs and around Nesta quickly, hoping it was clear enough that she did not need to be followed.

"I thought you claimed that you were allowing her space until she was ready,” Nesta accused darkly, thankfully staying put.

"Ah, well. I’m incorrigible I suppose.” She could nearly hear the shrug that surely accompanied his half-hearted response as she climbed up the stairs. She let out a breath of relief when he didn’t deny her lie, feeling guilty about his sacrifice when she heard Nesta’s hissing reply. She let their voices fade into the background once she got to her room, grateful for the small moment away from the infuriating scene.

But she certainly could not leave him alone down there for long.

She wasn't dressed in anything more than a casual, comfortable dress that she normally would not ever wear out of the house, but oddly she did not care. She just wanted to leave, and she was sure Lucien wouldn’t mind. She went to grab a random coat and paused, considering. 

Should she be that petty? 

His feelings would be involved. She didn't want to compromise his feelings just to add to her "rebellious" little show for her sisters.

But it wouldn't be compromising his feelings, as she _wanted_ him to know she had kept it. That she didn't completely loathe him as he seemed to think back then - that _she_ seemed to think back then.

She snatched his coat from where she had hung it in the back of the closet after she had carefully washed it so long ago, fully intending on returning it once it was clean. But she had found herself never wanting to despite how it would be the proper thing to do. It _was_ a nice coat, and she knew she was being ridiculous anyway. He probably had forgotten it was even gone, had probably not even noticed. There had been no need to return it.

"- actually, but happy to see you still have the time to write your witty replies for the next day before bed. What did you come to see me about?" Feyre asked, her tone unamused as Elain allowed it to become clear again while making her way back down the stairs. 

"Proud to see that you _don't_ have the time to write your own in order to avoid using the same lines twice seeing as that only means that you are such a busy, responsible High Lady. And what do you mean?" He asked, frowning curiously as though he was honestly confused by being asked such a thing. "I came to see Elain." He looked up at her as he said her name, his eyes following her down the stairs.

She wanted to kiss him for how he effortlessly played along, saving her from her creeping horror at herself for her false claim right in front of his face. She had fully expected him to make a show of arrogance out of it instead. 

She felt the jolt of shock from him, realizing he had in fact remembered the coat very clearly as his eyes hadn't barely grazed her form before he recognized it. 

He gave her that warm smile again, his face portraying not even a trace of the stunned reaction she had felt through their confusing bond, and dipped his head towards her before turning to Feyre, his smile dropping into the lazy one she was beginning to recognize as one of his signatures. It would not have been so perfected otherwise. "And she was merciful enough to grant me a small amount of her time. But I'm flattered you were eager to hear from me. Miss you too, of course. Perhaps we can have a chat later, yes?"

Feyre pursed her lips, dragging her eyes from Lucien’s to Elain’s. Debating. Her little sister was _debating_ with herself on whether or not she should _let_ her leave.

“So soon after referring back to the days where we wanted to kill each other. I don’t know if she knows what she’s getting herself into.” 

A poor attempt at stalling.

But Lucien only smirked. “Wanted to kill _each other_ ? I recall you desperately trailing after me at every turn, _despite_ knowing how I wanted you dead the moment you arrived after murdering my friend. Understandable, I am quite the treat, especially when comparing me to a brooding, boring male lurking about in the shadows as your other option. Still, you were desperate for my company all the same. So, if _you_ knew what you were getting into - surely your sister will do just fine, especially considering my view of her compared to my view of you back then."

She sensed another implication behind his description of Tamlin, but Elain ignored it, taking the opportunity to calm herself to confront Nesta once she made her inevitable relentless effort to keep her from leaving the house with him. She was surprised she hadn't already begun.

“Oh please,” Feyre said dully. “I was only trying to look for opportunities to escape."

“Ah yes,” Lucien said, raising an amused brow. “An example of that being when you so cleverly attempted to manipulate me into going against Tamlin to help you out of there. And you made that attempt _with_ that mask still on my face. Honestly.” He scoffed, shaking his head and leaning against the door frame. “Thinking you could trick _me_ of all people. Disregarding that - expecting me to go against Tamlin never did quite work out, did it?” He pulled his lips back over his teeth, sucking air through them in a hiss. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Though he was being light-hearted, there was still a trace of sincere regret in the apology. 

“Funny how you joke about such insensitive things right in front of my sister’s face _just_ after she finally allowed you to come within ten feet of her,” Nesta said, breaking from her silent fuming.  
  


Lucien regarded her with a face of indifference, looking her up and down before shrugging, completely calm in contrast to Elain’s strained temper and stiff shoulders. 

“She should know who I am before she spares too much of her time on me. I don’t want her under any false pretenses. I will not sugar coat who I am to gain her favor. It should be clear what she is getting into, and you should allow her to figure that out on her own rather than attempting to lecture her on who you believe I am in order to veer her away from anything you disapprove of,” he said, his tone falling cool. “Never will I treat her like the delicate rose petal you all seem to think she is. And believe me when I tell you that she does not enjoy being treated as such either.” 

Of course he knew of her resentment. She kept forgetting he could sense her feelings even more strongly than she could sense his. It confused her how she didn't mind that at all. 

At least he was _hearing_ her.

“Oh - and you think you know her well enough to tell _me_ what she wishes?” Nesta snarled, stepping forward and ripping her arm away from Cassian when he caught it to hold her back. “You know _nothing_.”

“Mhm,” he acknowledged, more of a dismissal than a true answer, examining her again with the same disinterest as he was completely unfazed by her hostility. 

Elain felt eyes on her, especially Nesta’s, waiting for her to react, to deny his words. She only looked up at him thoughtfully, slightly registering the dubious expressions directed towards the gesture.

Good. She would make it clear she was tired of them and their tip-toeing pity. As though her suffering made her more broken than any of them and their suffering because she was the sweet, weak one.

Ah, how she knew she would be behaving much differently would she have been sober...

“You claim to know what she wishes, yet you clearly have only come to disturb her if that is true,” Azriel cut in, making himself known from his usual obscure presence. His cold eyes drifted to her and colored with a touch of worry, seeming to suspect she may run from the room, upset by Lucien's words.

She tensed slightly at the surge of hostility that was sent through her at that. “She can handle a bit of banter,” Lucien snapped. “Stop belittling her.”

“She -”

“She’s a big girl, sweetheart,” Lucien sneered at Nesta, cutting her off as his eyes narrowed into slits. “She doesn’t need your parental version of care.” 

“Or perhaps we just know her and you do not," Azriel said quietly, watching him intently.

Lucien snorted loudly at Azriel before scoffing out a laugh.

“The problem lies in the fact that he doesn’t truly care about women. He is a high lord’s son. He feels entitled to whatever he deems as _his_. Elain is his pretty, proper High Fae 'mate' and that’s all that matters to him. If she were any less he would never be satisfied.”

“Careful with that glass house,” Lucien purred, causing Elain to shudder at the animalistic threatening tone that was more terrifying than she would have ever imagined he could sound, not when she had the three men of the Night Court around her to directly compare him too. “They do break so very easily when you are careless with tossing around stones. You forget I was there at the very start. Who do you think took care of making sure the funds went to the right place and that the _amount_ was enough to please?"

Ah...

“Stop,” Elain growled, causing all of their eyes to snap to her in surprise. “If you all are _quite_ finished mingling and ‘caring’ about me by talking about me as though I am not right here then I would like to leave.”

"It's a bit late, isn't it?" Feyre asked cautiously, her voice pointed. “The two of you are more than welcome to talk in the house. We can get out of your way, don’t let us chase you out.”

_Now_ she was fuming. 

“ _Excuse_ me? Yes, Feyre. It’s late. Perhaps you should get some sleep if you are so concerned about the fact.”

Feyre closed her eyes for a few seconds after a small amount of guilt crossed her face, inhaling deeply. “Make sure you keep her close, Lucien, you don’t know-”

“Close? I’m afraid I didn’t bring a leash with me for her. I would ask to borrow yours, but here I thought you had left it behind in the Spring Court." He tilted his head in mock inquiry as he implied her hypocrisy before he offered a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “No worries, ladies. I won’t kidnap her - unfortunately I have no secret city to offer for proper refuge.”

Another low blow. She didn’t know if she should be ashamed at herself for not faulting him for it, or whether or not she would if she hadn't been drinking.

“We’re leaving. Now.” She turned to slip out the door before she could lose her nerve, holding on tightly to the burning anger she needed to hold firm.

Lucien promptly followed her direction, joining her by her side and keeping up with her brisk pace in her rush to get away from them all as quickly as possible.

"You sure know how to use your words as weapons," Elain breathed, shaking her head at the thought of the enormous bite that came with every word he spoke when he intended to.

"I certainly lost my eye for a reason, and I am quite infamous for that reason,” he said with a sly smile. 

"And you didn't learn your lesson?"

He scoffed loudly, squinting at her in false offense. "I am called a fox, not a _dog_."

"Well, yes. You most definitely haven't been trained at all whatsoever."

"I am sorry, Elain," he said, his voice becoming soft and serious. "I didn't mean to take it that far, never meant to speak for you or provoke anything with your sisters."

"You… You didn't speak for me," she replied slowly, carefully, after a while. "Not as they do, at least. You defended me. You… Said what I never could bring myself to say to them.”

"You can defend yourself, and you need to start. You've just been made to believe you can't - by yourself and by their enabling. You don't need me or anyone to speak for you, but I couldn't listen to it anymore. I don't care what they think my intentions are as long as they are clear to you, but I do care how they make you feel so small. And I will not sit and cower to Illyrians. Or your sister. And _certainly_ not Rhysand. Too prideful for that," he said with a grimace before he became serious again. "I meant what I said. I don't want you to think I am something I am not. As people will tell you - my fox mask wasn't an accident." He gave her a look, amusement touching his good eye while the other clicked. "Not to mention how I am an incredibly bad influence, already have you snapping at people and everything."

"I will judge who I think you are, and will take everyone else's opinions with a grain of salt and wait to see for myself.” As she should have long before.

He considered her for a few moments before nodding the slightest amount, looking forward without a reply.

"So… You're leaving again?" She asked after a small portion of silence.

"Again?" He asked, turning to look at her curiously. "Yes, as we discussed before - I don't live here. I have to go back."

"To your friends," she said quietly. Why was she so put off by it?

"Yes," he sighed. "As I lost my previous."

"Tamlin?"

"Tamlin," he replied, nodding. "Others. Feyre as well. Mainly Tamlin. He completely lost himself and turned into something unrecognizable… but the man before was my best friend. He did more for me than I can repay."

She looked out at the path ahead of them, her eyes slowly moving up to the sky to search the stars as she tried to imagine his position. To have a friend as he did with so much history - so much loyalty.

"Do…" She started, biting her lip, already wanting to back out of the question. "Does the bond… Make you want to stay? A little bit?"

He stopped walking after maneuvering around to stand in front of her as he seemed to catch on to her insecurity. She wanted to groan at herself for even asking. “Not a minute goes by that I don’t ache for you through that bond. It is a constant torture - especially when I am no where near you. Of course it makes me want to stay. It makes me want to be as close to you as physically possible. Makes me want to do a lot of things I cannot do." 

She ducked her head and cursed her burning cheeks, biting back both a panicked reaction and a slightly giddy one at the same time. 

The intensity and heaviness in the way he said those words… They were so deep and striking that her throat went numb and a warmth spilled over her head and down her body.

"I'm sorry. It was a stupid question. I… I just don't know much about it - the bond. No one has told me much, and I mostly just know what I have heard here and there," she rambled on, growing more and more embarrassed with herself but unable to stop once she had started. "And I know that what the woman feels holds no comparison to what the male feels in the stage we are in. And… You aren't… Behaving as you are meant to behave. Based on what little I know. And I just wonder if there is something about me that -"

"Elain," he cut her off incredulously, his eyes wild with disbelief. "Are you questioning whether or not there is something _wrong_ with you? That I don't feel for you what you have heard I should feel?"

"You just seem," she paused, searching for an adequate choice of wording. "Like you would be okay if I were to reject the bond."

She was so selfish for desiring otherwise, as she had completely kept away from him and made it clear she did not want him there at the start. But she could be vain in such matters, which was a flaw she had to work on. Her self-esteem had also been crushed by Graysen.

"Okay?" He repeated, shaking his head. He dropped his head back to stare up at the stars for a few moments. "I would be shattered. _Shattered_ . If you were to reject the bond. If you had only an inkling of what it would do to me you would never suggest such a thing. It would follow me for the rest of my life. I am fighting so hard to not come on so strongly _because_ I am so desperate for you to not reject the bond. And because I respect you. I would never want to hurt you or overwhelm you or pressure you into something so serious and permanent."

“Well I… Alright,” she mumbled, twisting her hands slightly in the fabric of the coat she clutched around her as she took in the words and the fierceness in which he had spoken them. “Thank you.”

He was shaking his head to himself, scoffing a bit, and she stepped around him so they would start walking again.

"Lucien," she started slowly after they had fallen back into a comfortable pace, looking towards his feet as she clasped her hands together. "Nesta. What she said… That made you so angry."

It wasn't a question, but she hoped he would not force her to actually form one. 

He was silent for long enough that she opened her mouth to retract her words, his sigh stopping her.

"If I don't tell you then Feyre will anyway, Tamlin offered me no courtesy when it came to keeping my secrets to himself, so I-"

"I wouldn't ask her if you didn't want me to," she rushed out. "I promise. I respect your privacy."

"I believe you," he told her, glancing down at her with a kind expression. "And thank you, it is nice to know not everyone is as nosy as myself, but I will tell you. You are my mate."

The words brought the echo of the first he had ever spoken to her and she shivered, looking down at his coat and pulling it tighter around her as she was momentarily flashed back into that nightmare of a memory.

"Nice to see my coat is so multi-purpose - to help with the cold as well as piss off your sisters."

She bit her lip, holding back her sheepish smile. "I was going to give it back."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"And why not?"

She had that childish urge to groan again, regretting having said the words. He was always so direct. "It… Was all I had of you. And-"

"And?"

"Oh, shut up and be patient," she mumbled and he turned his head to raise his eyebrows at her in response to her snippy reply. "You left. I didn't know if I would see you again. Without thinking about it I would find myself wearing it. It smelled like you. I was in such an _awful_ place then. And it helped. I don't know what it helped with specifically or why… It just helped."

_It smelled like you._

Couldn't she have found a way around admitting that bit?

"Ah. As I said. Multi-purpose.” He kept his tone light and casual, but the way his heart had sped up clashed with it.

She glowered up at him. "Done stalling yet?"

"I was in love with a girl my father did not deem worthy to be with one of his sons - a Lesser Faerie. He had her brought in front of me and murdered her while my brothers held me down and forced me to watch. Her name was Jesminda. After that I abandoned the Autumn court and that is how I ended up in Spring."

The words were so blunt and terrible that she felt as though she had been dumped through a hole in a frozen lake. She stopped walking, staring at him. Such horror. Pure and unimaginable horror.

_"If she were any less he would never be satisfied.”_

"Lucien… I c-can't-" He took her hand to keep pulling her along, his eyes staring directly in front of him. He didn't want to make a scene of it - didn't want her to make a scene of it.

Her eyes went to his hand as tears had already started brimming her lashes. He had taken hers without thinking about it, to keep her moving with him. She quickly threaded her fingers in his before he could realize what he had done and drop it. She needed to comfort him. She needed to, it was her job, had to fix- 

She cut off her insistent, reflexive thoughts and felt a tear drip from her chin as she fought to keep her breath held, attempting to control herself. It only made the need to cry larger and the lump in her throat more painful. She had nothing to say to him. No words could ever be enough to be appropriate for what he had just told her, and she knew how difficult it had been just for him to say the words out loud. To say her name out loud. He didn't want her pity. She almost felt ashamed to hold the place of his mate, forced upon him when he had lost someone he so deeply loved. She had always felt he had been forced upon her, but she had never considered how he was in the same position. She felt silly for how she had grieved for Graysen then.

Did he feel as though he was betraying her memory by being shackled to a bond that he had never had with her with another woman? A woman he did not know, let alone love?

Her eyes swam and her head spun as she couldn't stop the imagined pictures of the scene that her mind attempted to create despite it having no idea where to start. Him on his knees, his brothers holding him down. She slowly let out her uneven breath, unable to hold back the silent sob. She was desperate to offer something to him, anything. She slowly lifted their hands until she was able to kiss the back of his, closing her eyes for a moment as she touched her nose to the skin there before lowering their hands back down.

She heard the halting of his breath and felt the stutter of his heart, the crashing of emotion and physical reaction when her lips touched his skin. She hadn't realized the significance of what she had done to their bond or thought of it until she felt it smothering the both of them. It distracted from the pain of the subject. 

But she didn't regret it. Not when every part of her was singing its praises and approval as though to reward her. Positive reinforcement to show her what happened when she was a good girl and followed her instinct's directions instead of fighting them. It seemed even her bond was treating her as a child. 

Perhaps she had to stop acting as one.

She released his hand only to slide her grip up the length of his arm to hold onto the upper part of it instead as they walked and the shudder that spread through him was great enough that she could see her hand shake with it. She blinked at the spot, caught off guard by the effect she apparently had on him just by something so small and a thrill of satisfaction fell over her. 

An old, charming High Fae was affected that greatly just from a simple touch she had given him.

"Good. Thank you. I hate brooding. I would have to start calling myself Tamlin if I ever allowed myself to become such a person," he commented, his voice as smooth and casual as it usually was despite how she knew a great deal of what he was feeling on the inside.

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that feeling and expressing emotion was not _brooding_ , but she would not push for more tonight. She would wait. 

Wait? Wait for what? Because he wasn't staying, was he? He was going back to _Vassa_.

_"Vassa and Jurian have been good for you."_

Where she had not been. Because clearly he wasn't himself, wasn't _this_ , when she knew him before. Again, she could only hold herself responsible for being so dismissive. Perhaps he was better off with another female. Her focus suddenly narrowed and the edges of her vision reddened at the thought.

No. Absolutely not.

"What is it?"

He couldn't leave. She hadn't had barely any chance to _know_ him yet, and the glimpse she was currently receiving only confirmed how she wanted to - _needed_ to.

"Don't leave," she blurted out before she could think it over, her tone of voice actually a bit _commanding_ much to her despair and embarrassment. It was not her place to ever speak to him - or anyone for that matter - in such a way. Who was she to boss him around?

His mate. That's who she was. If anyone had the place to do so, it was surely _her_ . And only her. He belonged to _her_.

Her eyes widened at her own thoughts and she looked up to find him raising an eyebrow at her, examining her face before he tsked. "So possessive. You alright, dove? Those feelings of your sudden sense of ownership were nearly blinding."

She growled and unintentionally dug her fingers into his arm so hard he winced but did not pull away. 

She wanted to die in her suffocating mortification at her own behavior that nearly mimicked that of a wild animal.

"Welcome to my world, sweetheart. Or rather - a small _taste_ of my world. If you can't even handle that without wounding me I can't imagine the terror you'd inflict on those around you if you sat in my position. The credit I clearly deserve for my restraint has now been proven. I would love to say I have sympathy for you, but I am having a difficult time managing to find any."

"This is so unlike me," she said softly, miserable with how she suddenly had so little control. Surely Feyre never behaved like this - she hadn’t even _known_ from the beginning that she was Rhysand's mate. Perhaps Elain simply had no control over herself. 

"Yes," he confirmed. "It is so unlike you, and you should not let yourself feel guilty or embarrassed for it. You cannot help it, and I will not put any stock in it as an authentic representation of your _real_ feelings towards me when disregarding the bond. That I promise you, Elain. Please don't feel humiliated when I know you are in no place to behave in any other sort of manner."

"But how do I know?"

"How do you know what?"

"What's real and what is only the bond?"

He was quiet for a while. "The bond may seem abnormally strong for you at the moment, but it is still not as strong for you as it is for me, and we have been apart for a long while - so it is attempting to compensate. I suspect us meeting in the first place, acknowledging the bond, and then separating makes a difference between those who have never met, never tugged on it like I had before when you were so… Unresponsive." He paused as his expression clouded with grief as he was haunted by the memories of the shell she had been. "The feelings in your human heart will always be your own. Mentally and physically you will be influenced, but not enough that you will lose all authenticity."

"I want to know you, Lucien. I have been avoiding it for so long, blaming _this_ for other wounds for so long. I can’t do that anymore. I have to know my mate."

She was tired of feeling that piece missing, tired of knowing she would never feel _whole_ until she dealt with what was between them. The inevitable. She could not ignore it away as she did so many other matters she could when she was able.

"No. You don't," he said firmly. "You do not _have_ to do anything. As much as I would crumble to hear it - you do not have to know me. You do not have to entertain the bond. That is your decision to make. Would it feel more natural to you to allow me to court you than it would another male? Yes. But do not feel as though I am your only option. And there is… That… Illyrian." His jaw clenched madly as he struggled to describe Azriel, his good eye going completely black as his other whirred loudly.

Yes, the possessiveness she had felt clearly did not compare, and she felt silly in how uncomposed she was next to him when he felt everything with so much more intensity. 

"Azriel," she said clearly, unable to hold herself back from goading him. She wanted his reaction, her body craved it, and she suddenly noticed how heavy she still felt with the effects of the alcohol. 

He hummed loudly in acknowledgment and she eyed him from her peripheral vision to watch him grind his teeth together, egging her on.

"He _is_ very kind to me. Gentle." She bit her tongue when she felt him stiffen in an inhuman manner. "He gave me the knife that I shoved through Hybern's throat - the knife he had never let any other wield before me."

She squeezed her eyes shut at the violent snarl that ripped through him, tilting her face away as she hoped to obscure her sick delight at his reaction. She was awful, that cauldron had made her awful. Clearly. Reveling in his jealousy, the stirring it caused. 

"You know what you are doing." His voice was low and she felt the slightest air of taunting in his accusation. "You are cruel. And here I was dumbfounded at the thought of the cauldron considering us as equals. Not you, not a fawn to a fox."

"I only want to know what I am up against," she countered, attempting not to sound so exaggerated in her feigned innocence. "I do not know much about -"

"Oh no. Don't try it. Don't attempt to play coy, not in front of me, dove."

She huffed a breath out of her nose. "Well. I wanted to confirm that…" She trailed off, frowning as she tried to put together an explanation that didn't further embarrass her. 

"You wanted to confirm how quickly I became a rabid beast at the simplest things when it came to you. You wanted to know that it physically grinded down on me to tear the throat out of any male to look in your direction." He stopped walking to turn towards her, the trail that they had been following barely lit from the trees above them covering the moon and starlight. "Or perhaps you forgot I was a High Fae male, and thought to bring out the more _inhuman_ bits for comparison purposes."

She stepped back as he closed in on her, his eyes narrowing into something purely predatory. 

"I can assure, Elain, that I am no human."

"Are you trying to frighten me?" She looked up at him curiously, her voice soft. 

The bestial flare in his eyes flickered and died and he searched hers. "Bit hard when you have to play games like that," he said, motioning to her face where her eyes were large and gentle. "Playing up your vulnerable innocence to get what you want. Don't think I can't see how you can be more calculated than people take note of. You probably haven't even taken note of it yourself, actually. Just natural for you to take advantage of how pure you come across. Still unkind to goad." 

"You couldn't frighten me anyway." She huffed quietly again with a scowl at his accusation. "As though you would hurt _me_ . You're meant to hurt other people _for_ me."

Lucien's face drew up in his amusement before he was laughing at her, taking a couple steps back as he shook his head, his shoulders shaking with his laughter.

"Is it not true?" she challenged, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. 

"You're a bit spoiled, you know that?"

She sucked in a breath, pressing her lips together before walking past him. "I suppose you did point out how you knew the amount of money Spring's High Lord was giving us and where we came from before we lost everything. And how we did nothing to help Feyre all of those years… Only to complain at her while she was doing everything."

"Ah. Indeed," he confirmed, appearing back by her side. He didn't try to reassure her on her statement regarding her sister. She was glad for it - his consistent honesty. Though it was still off-putting at first since socially it would not be the approved response. "Though I was meaning more your knack for fully expecting everyone to reflexively dote on you, and I don't only mean your sisters. Everyone you meet adores you because you're sweet and have an endearing charm. People's reactions to you are so consistent that you don't expect anything less and expect everyone to do your bidding."

She grimaced, looking away to scan her eyes over the stars with unfocused eyes. 

"Haven't we, along with everyone else, established that _you_ are the infamous manipulative one?"

"I can be. But in a different way than yourself. Unfortunately I wasn't gifted with your stunning, heartbreakingly delicate face, or gifted to be as uniquely radiant as you are all together for that matter. How you, despite all you've been through, hold true to your courtesy as much as you possibly can. That takes much more strength than I have ever had - than most have ever had. That is the appeal. Your quiet grace and modest wisdom. You paint an angelic picture. Which is so much more impressive than my conscious charm. It's something authentic when people want to give you the world."

Her lips parted slightly as she took in his words, and oddly she did not blush as she would have expected. The words had struck her much deeper than that.

"And you say all of this directly after I pointed out your silver tongue," she said, her teasing tone coming out weaker than she intended as she ran the words over again.

"I am just behind in proving what I claim. Still had to give an example of how wonderful I am with women. Besides, you said _thank you_ earlier." He snorted, giving her a reprimanding look. "Thanking me before I even offer a fraction of my best work. I had to earn that thank you - wouldn't have felt right otherwise."

She looked away from him to look out at the sky again. The two of them stayed that way after that - walking in their serene silence. She didn't mind. She savored it actually, savored him and his presence. 

"Let me get you home, Elain," Lucien murmured after a long while of their stroll, slowing their pace until they were both stopped and facing each other. She watched his eyes lift to the hair falling from her half up-do into her face. His hand twitched like he was going to reach up and tuck it back but he stopped himself. 

The frustrating and uncontrollable part of her ruled by the bond desperately wished he hadn't, but her better judgement was grateful for him forcing them to pace themselves when she was clearly unable to do so herself - especially with the wine still aiding her confidence and ease. He was so much more in control than her. It made her have to remind herself over and over how many years he had on her to refrain from feeling too horrible about it. Not to mention how much longer he had been a High Fae than her even more specifically.

"Despite how it seems you can hold your alcohol better than I would have expected, you are still fairly intoxicated. And it _is_ late, as Feyre said."

"Better than expected? As a human I enjoyed parties and mingling quite a lot you know," she quipped. "I am not as shy as people here seem to believe I am. I was in a state of shock after I was made."

He gave her a small smile. "I know, Elain. It's alright."

"Do a trick," she said firmly, scowling in a playful manner, determined to keep their interaction as innocent as possible. She didn't _want_ to consider their bond or the awkward interactions they had shared before. Didn't want to think of exactly who he was. "Before you take me back."

"... A trick," he repeated slowly. "What am I - your silly human folklore come to life?" 

"Yes." She nodded seriously before biting her lip as she felt the lively glint in her eyes. She was truly enjoying herself - living in the moment. "You are. Impress me. Live up to the stories. The others are so _dreadfully_ boring," she groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. "The _seasonal_ courts are from the traditional tales, and I rarely see much of them. Do a trick. A faerie trick."

"I am a High Fae. Not a faerie with silly little powers," he replied dully.

Though she hadn't missed the way his eyes lingered and flashed on her mouth when her teeth pressed into her lower lip.

"Silly? So what can you do that _isn't_ silly? Be rich and vain?"

Lucien gave her a flat look before snatching her hand, holding it up. He hovered his hand over hers and a ball of flame ignited between them. She jerked her hand back but he held onto it firmly with his other.

The bright flame in the dark lit up in her eyes and glowed so brightly it almost hurt. She glanced up to watch the ball of flame dance in his own two mismatched eyes, the gold gleaming and the russet reflecting - the remarkable detailing of his metal eye enhanced and defined. Whoever had crafted was truly an incredible artist. She inhaled sharply at the sight, somehow finding it more alluring than anything else she had seen in this new, foreign world than she had seen in a long while - if at all. How odd. Such a simple thing to be so taken with. 

When he brought it down closer to her skin and she felt the heat of it she jerked at his hold again. He looked up to where she was distracted by his lit up face again and smirked at her.

"Listen, I am only giving you a show of my tricks for free once. You have the pleasure of gazing at me without charge for the rest of your life if you choose to take advantage of that incredibly generous deal. So I suggest you pay attention to your limited time offer while you can. And don't be so nervous - I won't light you on fire."

She grumbled something incoherent, too engaged to pay much attention to his words. She relaxed her hand and he let go, letting her keep it steady herself. Her eyes widened when he dropped his other that had been hovering over the ball. She quickly brought her other hand up to "hold" it up with two hands as though that would help anything. 

"You better focus and keep still," he warned. "I made no promises on _you_ not lighting yourself on fire."

She knew he was just making a show of it and he was still in full control, but she still kept completely frozen in that inhuman way she was now capable of. She chewed the inside of her cheek when the ball dropped the rest of the way down to her palms as it shaped into a sleeping fawn, curled up just barely above the surface of her skin. She watched it stand warily, shaking itself off as it peered around itself, sniffing at the tiny flowers that started to pop up all around. She leaned down to look closer and shook her head a bit at the sheer detail of it, as impressive as his golden eye. She was at a loss at how fire could depict so much, how it could have so many shades and specific timing in its flickering to make it insanely precise. He was like an artist himself that used flames as his paint. 

She grinned when the fawn sniffed at a dandelion and jumped back with sneezes and a dazed shake of its head. The High Fae was hundreds of years old and knew how to impress a female by thinking up _cute_ details like that. How endearing - promising. It made the thoughts of her future less dark, her thoughts of growing old and growing colder and more brutal like most of the High Fae she had come across become less certain. Him knowing how to charm or not - the simple idea was youthful and… fun.

The fawn lept from one palm to the other. A glittering pool of sparks formed there for it to dip its head and sip from. 

"Now, focus and try to picture it as something else."

Her eyebrows came together in confusion. "But… That's not how it works. Only Autumn should be able to control this element. Right? Aside from Feyre…"

"Right," he confirmed. "Though Feyre does not have the control of fire that my court does. It's the hardest to master. But I am still controlling it - I just want you to manipulate it."

"So… You'll see what I picture in my head and have me 'manipulate' it that way? That's the real trick right? Don't falsely inflate my ego," she scolded. 

He chuckled. "I'm not Rhysand. I only know things from your head occasionally through dreams and if you are thinking very loudly about something affecting you. Now do what I said - I don't have all night. My time is money, and I have sleep to tend to."

She rolled her eyes though her mind lingered on his comment on her dreams as well as what he possibly could have gotten from her thoughts. She brushed it aside and she sucked in a breath, staring at the fawn that was chasing a butterfly along her hands.

"It's magic. You have to try to focus on it with your immortal energy - not just your measly little human thoughts."

"You're about to have my measly little human rejection in a second." She muttered and he only laughed at her in reply.

She was about to give up when the doe finally switched into a very simple form of a fox. She refrained from jumping a little in celebration. She looked up at him to find that his good eye was wide on it as the other clicked and whirred.

"You didn't think I could do it!" She accused.

"No. I did not," he said, shaking his head dubiously before his face broke into a grin. "It's nice though. What is that? A dog?" 

She glared at the fire as she tried to keep focus, pulling back the fire that had drifted apart back together. "You know what it is. Don't be rude. Especially after doubting me and setting me up for failure." She squinted, attempting to picture a fox more clearly. It certainly was like painting a picture - and apparently fire paint was not her specialty. She grimaced a bit when a headache began nagging at her from the effort she was using. 

"Drop it."

"What? We are on grass."

"Sweetheart, if I can control it enough to have the fire not burn you then I believe you can trust me enough to drop a bit on some grass," he told her dully.

She flushed a little and watched her little fox for a few more moments before dropping it in front of her. She stumbled back a few steps when it smashed into thousands of sparks, spreading over the ground around them, making a large version of the pool the small doe had been drinking from. She stared as the ground became invisible beyond the blinding sparks. 

"I don't know if this is 'a bit', Lucien," she breathed, looking around her as it continued to spill further over the grass around them. 

Well, he certainly knew how to dazzle, didn't he?

"I can't have there be any chance that some other male you request a trick from could outdo me, now can I? I don't particularly like losing."

She didn't think that was possible.

"I don't either," he told her, winking at her. Though there was something behind his practiced arrogant expression, something much deeper, and she felt the wave of emotion from him.

She was distracted from Lucien when the sparks retracted and spread up her body, igniting into swirling flames that wound around her. They wrapped around her legs and arms, dancing at her throat and twining into the tendrils of the pieces of hair that she had allowed to hang down both sides of her face until she looked like she was entirely on fire, encaged completely in a large collection of flames. Once it started to become uncomfortably warm they all gathered up into a large cloud over her head, hovering before crashing down over her in the same fashion the fox had hit the ground, the sparks disappearing once they dripped off of her.

He bent in a dramatic bow. "I hope I put on a good show. Would hate to have to give you your money back."

She let out a small yelp and lifted her arm to stare at it, her eyes darting around it wildly as what appeared to be a small ember seared into it, winding and looping around her fingers to her wrist and all the way up her arm, slow and excruciating. She heard him curse and then he was behind her. Her back pressed up against him as he lifted her arm to twist it back and forth gently. 

"I'm sorry, Elain," he murmured, his face close enough to her ear that her hair shifted with his breath. "I can't do anything until it's finished."

She pressed back harder into him on instinct - from the pain or the bond she didn't know. His steady, firm form helped distract from the discomfort and she squeezed her eyes shut. Until what was finished? How long would it take to finish? She could tell it was a specific design of sorts, as she had seen how Feyre and her friends decorated themselves with design. But… It hadn't been _burned_ into them, had it?

Of course not. This was the Autumn Court she was dealing with. Brutal and merciless. 

"I suppose this is what I get for playing with fire," she said, trying to sound lighthearted while she panted in pain.

"What an embarrassingly awful pun," he said, attempting to smother the sound of his concern and guilt with the same lighthearted teasing, what he was so practiced at. "Perhaps you ought to leave the wit to me."

"I know. But if I had passed up the opportunity it would have been just as embarrassing, right?"

He chuckled, a tinge of disbelief accompanying the sound. "Right." He kissed her temple on clear impulse and rubbed the back of her hand with her thumb and she could hear the sound of his eye working as he panicked and stressed.

"What is it?" She asked quietly, raising her arm practically an inch from her eyes to look it over, her tone more curious than anything, part of her still whirling from the innocent press of his lips to her head. 

"Engravings from my court," he sighed. 

Engravings indeed. 

They looked more like vines winding around her arm and over her fingers, the shape of leaves branching off in certain areas. Where the burn should be there was gold, as though gold had been poured into the lines of the wound. She looked even closer, her eyes widening at how it truly did seem as though it was gold adorning her arm. 

"Is…" She squinted before looking up at him in question.

He hummed a sound of agreement and walked around her to examine it closer himself. "Yes. It's Autumn. Of course they try to find a way to make mutilation beautiful. It's not healed yet, so I should be able to undo it." He grimaced and looked up at the sky. "Just let me think for a bit. This is the first time I've ever actually given another woman one. Jesminda… was not accepted by my High Fae blood enough for that to have been an option."

"This is an honor?"

"Yes. In the eyes of the Autumn Court at least."

"It's much prettier than the Night Court's. And less… crowded," she observed, tilting her head.

"Elain, I just burned gold into your skin and you think it's pretty?"

"Who wouldn't?" She looked up at him and eyed the doubtful guilt on his face. "It would be silly to deny it, no matter how I feel about it. What girl doesn't love when men present them with gold?" Her lips twitched and her eyes returned to the markings. The skin was an angry red around the gold, but it was nothing compared to what she would have imagined it would look like considering the severity of the burn. "Certainly a step up from iron."

He let out a quiet snort. "I would never insult _myself_ by presenting a female with _iron_." 

She was about to say something stupid - something impulsive. She knew she was. 

"Don't take it away," she told him firmly. "I want it. Heal it for me please. Feyre said you were good at that."

"Elain," he said, wincing. "I know you're trying to be kind because you know I feel guilty about it, but these are a big deal. It's not just simple decoration or tattoos. They-"

"Heal it," she said, her tone hard as she looked at him seriously. She inclined her head forward and jerked her arm for emphasis when he didn’t move and narrowed her eyes when he opened his mouth to protest again. She ignored the alarm bells in her mind at her irrationally uncontemplated decision. It was too late to change her mind at that point. She was too stubborn. 

“As you wish, master,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I have to seal it. Not just heal it. Alright? That involves my mouth on your skin.”

Elain nodded impatiently, ignoring the lurch in her stomach at the words. “Yes, alright. Hurry along now, please, it stings.”

It was reckless - her behavior. And stupid. Letting foreign, permanent and brutal marks that she held no knowledge of be set into her skin was truly foolish. Magic was serious and often terrible. She should never accept something like this without a very lengthy explanation from someone she trusted. She didn't know Lucien, and they had already established he was manipulative. Just like those stories - High Fae loved toying with humans with lies and deception. He could be pretending to be reluctant, he could be -

But that's why she wanted it, wasn't it? The adrenaline. The risk. How concerning. 

Especially seeing as she did not care about the realization either.

He watched her carefully, not offering the sort of light mocking reply she would have expected. He was truly finding the matter to be quite serious. She only felt more eager to accept it then. 

His eyes finally pulled from hers as he knelt his head down and brought her arm up, his lips meeting the offended skin. She jumped at the cool feeling of them and her mind went blank at the sudden rush of intimate connection. She desperately fought at the instinctive _need_ to lean into him.

When she bit her tongue to hold back her protest when he pulled back from her arm she realized just how much she truly _was_ playing with fire - playing with desire. The desire that was embedded into her very core to be natural for this male, and she was only encouraging it. 

But she couldn't remember her reasonings on why she should fight it.

* * *

"He's funny."

Elain tilted her chin up as she moved around the expectant lot of those who had been waiting for her as she entered the kitchen, looking for something to busy herself with as she waited to be interrogated. She would squirm if she had to look at them directly. 

Rhys scoffed loudly, throwing Feyre an unimpressed look. 

"He is," Elain quipped. "Funnier than you, Rhysand. And Cassian."

"Ha!" Cassian exclaimed. "That uppity bastard funnier than me?! The bias is -"

"Rhysand? You spend ten minutes with fox face and suddenly I'm Rhysand?"

"He's less funny when his jabs are directed at you," Feyre said flatly.

"Or perhaps you were a tad sensitive to jokes when you met him," Elain said with a frown, tilting her head to the side. “You were quite serious back then.”

The room was quiet for a few seconds before both Cassian and Rhysand were choking with laughter. At her joke or simply the fact she had made a joke at _all_ Elain didn't know. Feyre only stared at her dubiously.

"Or you just haven't had any of his 'jokes' directed at you." Feyre looked at Rhysand in annoyance as he snorted out another laugh. "You're his mate."

"He directed a lot of jokes at me and at my expense," she replied, shrugging. "I just tried to keep up."

"You kept up with his banter?" Feyre said slowly, doubtfully.

“You forget that I am good at talking to people, Feyre,” Elain said, her voice falling flat. “People tend to enjoy light banter now and again. So yes, naturally, I am fine with handling that aspect of communication as well. One of us had to be able to interact with other human beings at least.” She shot a look at Nesta.

Yes. She loved people - loved socializing. Flirting. In her previous life at least as a human. And… She could bring that piece back to her if she tried. She learned that tonight. He had given her a glimpse - made her feel like her again. 

"What is that on your arm," Nesta demanded sharply.

Elain held up her arm, the brand no longer red around the design that shimmered between gold and black - to imitate embers, she had realized. She shrugged. "I told him to show me a trick."

"A trick?!" Feyre snatched her hand and moved closer, looking to Rhysand wildly to explain when she couldn't understand why it was so different from her own - and not just in design.

"Autumn does not tattoo. They brand."

The room was silent for a long while. " _Brand_ ," Nesta snarled, her eyes wild and murderous. Possibly more murderous than Elain had ever seen them, part from when they were dragged in front of that cauldron.

"Well, clearly it doesn't _look_ like a brand anymore does it? No need to say it like that. It was only red for a little while. He told me he would get rid of it anyway. I told him not to. It burned and I was not going to let that pain go to waste. Especially with how pretty it is."

"You let him," Feyre said slowly through her teeth. "Burn this into your skin as a 'trick'. As some sort of _claim_ ? Like a farmer would a _cow_?"

"He didn't do it on purpose, Feyre, and _that_ wasn't the trick. It -"

"Are you stupid? Of course he did it on purpose!"

"It's likely he didn't," Rhysand said reluctantly, clearly not at all keen on offering words of defense for her mate.

Her mate. She kept referring to him as that to herself, though only a short while prior she could barely stomach the thought of his name, stomach the thought of such a connection tying her down at all.

"Lucien left his court so long ago he likely thought he wasn't considered for that magic. Probably didn't even cross his mind. It isn't only for deals. It's mainly for reputation really. Though, yes, it is also used for deals as well as, as you pointed out, ownership in the way that humans would mark cattle."

"Hmm. I have never actually seen this up close. I have always been curious," Amren mused, stepping forward to take her arm, twisting it back and forth as she eyed it while Elain watched her warily. "Well. I am certainly jealous. This is real gold embedded here. With enchantments of course seeing as the shifts in colors for the illusion. I swear I have seen some Autumn females in the past have jewels in places." She ran her finger over the gold and Elain shivered, her eyes following the ember mimicking glow that followed the path Amren had traced. The intimidating female snorted. "Yes. Much more impressive than your dull _tattoos_. The design style and pattern much more sophisticated as well."

"Gaudy." Feyre sniffed. "Just like his sword that is practically decoration."

"What was the 'trick', Elain?" Rhysand asked, his tone a bit suspicious. "That one looks specific, and they are usually meant as earning markers for women as they prove their worthiness of a male of the highest rank they can manage to 'earn'. Another reason why it was likely unintentional. He is… The High Lord's son. If that was a brand of acknowledgement and not a deal or a claiming or ownership brand then that is… quite impressive."

She blinked, pride falling over her and she pressed her lips together to reign in her reaction. She wasn't as simple as a High Fae with random glimpses of the future it seemed, and she liked the thought of _earning_ something for once instead of being given it. Even if it was from a brutal court that had questionable reasonings behind the accomplishment. 

They all stared at her, looking unsure of how to react to her mood. Nesta's nostrils flared as she looked as though she was holding herself back. Rare for her. 

"I manipulated fire," she said murmured, her mind drifting back to what she had done.

"What," Feyre repeated. "No you didn't. _I_ have a difficult time managing that." 

Elain sniffed. "Yes. Lucien mentioned something like that. And yes. I did. You're not the only one who can be an impressive High Fae, Feyre."

"That's not what I'm saying! I just don't see how it's possible!" Her sister looked at Rhysand again for the hundredth time who shook his head. 

"How did you manage that?" He asked, frowning. 

"Well it's not as though I… _Conjured_ it," she said. "He did, then told me to manipulate it without using my ' _measly little human_ ' thoughts."

"Oh. Okay," Feyre nodded as though she understood then. "Are you sure it wasn't just an illusion then? You're his mate, he can -"

"Lucien isn't -" Rhysand started.

"No. It wasn't an illusion." Elain pressed her lips together again as she refrained from snapping at her sister, fully annoyed then at them doubting her and treating her like a little child with a crazy tale they had to decipher. "I asked him that. Besides, if what Rhysand said is accurate, then this _brand_ is proof of it."

"So you _intercepted_ his magic. Impressive in its own right." Rhysand nodded with an appreciative frown.

"Thank you, Rhysand," she said with a pointed kind tone, watching Feyre. "Glad someone acknowledges me doing something interesting for once."

"Oh stop it, Elain. We-" 

"I'm going to bed," Elain quipped. "It's late." She brushed past Nesta who didn't move as she continued staring straight ahead, still somehow holding her tongue. "I will see you all in the morning, perhaps we can continue this conversation then."

Hopefully not, as she was sure she would be much more reluctant and uncomfortable once she was completely sober the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Elain watched out the window, frowning as she mindlessly twisted an apple between her hands by the stem. 

"Do you ever miss Spring, Feyre?"

There was a pause. "I… No."

"I know it was horrid for you at the end, but surely…"

"I have never been able to look back on things that haunt me and find beauty as you can, Elain. Even with our old cottage you're able to miss parts of it. I don't have that in my soul. I do envy you for it though. But no - as beautiful as the Spring Court is, and as beautiful as you surely would find it, I don't miss it."

"Do you think Lucien would ever go back?"

"He has. But then Tamlin kicked him back out after Rhys went and offended him. He would probably go back if Tamlin let him. He cares a lot for that court."

"I wonder if I would ever get to see it."

She heard Feyre let out a long, careful breath as though she was reeling in her initial reaction she wanted to speak on. Elain wondered if Feyre would outright tell her she wouldn’t allow it, or if she would try to tip-toe around it. Either way, she knew it was unlikely for her little sister to allow Elain to go to Spring without a fight.

"You'd like Autumn. I remember the first time I saw it - it looked like the inside of a jewelry box. The colors were gorgeous. Lucien definitely looks like his court. Though of course I doubt you will ever get to explore Autumn for obvious reasons. But the flowers in Spring would likely nearly make you faint at how plentiful and gorgeous they are. They always made me think of you when I was there.”

More of what she couldn’t see. There was so much she couldn’t see, so much she couldn’t experience. Why have these sharpened if she was not allowed to fully use them to her advantage?

"He wanted you dead when you met? That's what you were saying when he was here."

She snorted. "Yes. And that 'well what?' mocking he pulled was him mimicking the first things he and Tamlin said about me. Then he proceeded to demand the details of his friend I had killed - that wolf - while I was paralyzed with fear. He was absolutely disgusted with my presence. Not that I blamed him - I murdered his friend. And then there was the fact that I was human, which he never missed an opportunity to point out or mock."

"But you followed him around anyway," she pointed out.

"Mhm. Not that I would use that word choice necessarily. He is extra cocky about that - clearly. Cocky about everything actually. It's just a part of his character. But, as I've said before, I was wary of Tamlin and Lucien never pretended to be anything else other than himself - so I respected him for that."

"He wanted you dead."

"Exactly. And he was clear about that. He is blunt. But I don't have to tell you that, do I?" Feyre laughed lightly in a strange way, as though she still couldn’t quite believe the situation between Elain and Lucien. "Tamlin wasn't, and I had no clue of what he wanted. I was scared of him. He was brooding and secretive, and of course he had taken me away from my family and what he could shape-shift into was terrifying enough in itself. Lucien made it clear he didn't like me, but I was more confident in him not harming me so I tried to go on rides with him as much as I could to gain more information and hopefully try to persuade him to either speak to Tamlin for me or to at least slip ideas on how to get out. But he was still nice to talk to. He started to get 'busy' though, which I am quite sure was due to Tamlin's jealousy."

"Tamlin thought you wanted him?" 

"I don't know for  _ sure _ , but he definitely knew I much preferred Lucien. He also knew Lucien was much better at talking to women, and people in general for that matter, than himself."

" _ Did  _ you want him?" Elain's voice had gone a bit quiet when she asked the question, a threatening quiet that was not at all intentional.

"No." Feyre scoffed. "I find him much too infuriating to consider him for those types of things. But we did become friends."

"He is very closed off in front of most, isn't he? Snarky. Irreverent." Real, refreshing.  _ Provoking _ . She needed someone to provoke things out of her.

"Yes," she agreed. "But I suppose you will be able to help him with that if you decide to keep considering him.”

"Do you think he will come back? I just don't know if… I was… I don't know." Elain closed her eyes and braced the heel of her palm against her forehead, frustrated with herself for worrying about the idea for the thousandth time. 

Feyre chuckled and Elain wanted to sneer at her and leave the room, slamming the door as hard as she could on the way out for the infuriating sound. Instead she just dropped her hand, looking out the window once more.

Why was she so irritable as of late?

"You're his mate. I can assure you there was nothing you could have done that would've made him  _ not  _ want to return to you."

"He just seems so… put together. In control," she breathed. "Where I don't feel at all in control, Feyre. Is this how you felt?"

Feyre thought for a moment. "Yes and no," she said after considering. "If I'm being honest - yes, Elain. As of right now you seem more influenced by the bond than I was before I accepted it. But I was also under the impression that the bargain we had made under the mountain had to do with the effects of the bond. Everyone's bond acts differently I suppose. Though I can promise you Lucien goes mad wanting you. You don't have to worry there. If you want to test it I assume you know ways that would make that easy."

Elain touched a cheek that was growing warm. "You suggest I intentionally bait him?" She already had. Yes, she had been intoxicated, and yes - had she not been she wouldn't have done so, but yes - either way she would have wanted it

And she had been  _ thrilled  _ with it. 

* * *

Elain was growing restless again. Lucien hadn't been back, and she was feeling even more trapped than before. Perhaps it was a bad thing she had spent that bit of time with him, as that taste made her see what she had been missing. Company, lightheartedness.

She set her jaw, determined not to wallow, and went to her mirror to take time on intricately doing her hair up, allowing a couple small curls to hang loose. She examined her makeup, dabbing color to her lips and darkening her lashes. She added a bit of blush to her cheeks and assessed her work. She nodded to herself in the mirror and turned to pluck the muted green dress from where she had laid it on the bed. She smoothed her hands over the short, flared skirt and hesitated. It seemed a lot shorter once it was actually on her body. She looked at the deep v of the neckline, the dress held up by thin straps that crossed behind her back that was completely exposed. 

She certainly never wore things this revealing. 

She didn't care. Putting effort into how she looked always made her feel better, and she liked seeing herself look more than only  _ pretty _ for a change. She slipped on a pair of heels that made her legs look particularly long, especially with the short length of her dress. She smiled as she twisted in front of the mirror. Her behavior was vain - but it lifted her spirits too much to attempt to correct herself for it.

The gold of the Autumn Court's engravings reflected off of the light and caught her eye as she fastened a thin, simple necklace around her neck. She dropped her arms and tilted her head at how gorgeous it really was. It was like its own, large and impressively crafted jewelry piece in itself. She decided against a coat as she brushed aside the nagging feeling in her stomach at the sight of what Lucien had given her. It was too pretty to cover up, but would it be an issue to be seen with them by other members of the Night Court?

She didn't care. 

She didn't have much attachment to her sister's court at all really, which was a fact that she had only recently let herself consciously confirm.

"I am going out," she announced when she bounded into the room everyone was lounging in.

"Wearing that?" Cassian asked her, squinting at her dress. 

"I  _ was  _ debating stripping it off at the doorstep before I left and trying my luck out in public nude, but I decided against it."

He tsked. "Such unnecessary sass lately."

Mor gasped, jumping up to examine her dress. "I  _ love  _ this! Ugh and your legs," she groaned. "Where are you going tonight? Is it a date? Can I come along?"

"Well, I was planning to go alone, but -"

"Go alone where?"

Elain glared fiercely at Feyre before looking back to Mor. "If you would really like to then yes, but as long as you aren't going as my babysitter."

Mor scoffed. "No, I just need someone to go out with since Feyre is busy all the time. Besides, clearly I should take the opportunity before you change back into something more boring. We could get you laid," she purred, leaning close to her face.

Elain felt her face heat up and her eyes widened at her.

"Good idea. Better than fox boy taking it,” Cassian said.

“Let the girl be,” Amren snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. “She has no desire to hear the hideous thoughts of an imbecile.”

Elain was distracted by their exchange regarding her innocence when she noticed Mor eyeing the golden brand on her arm, her expression distant. From the moment Mor had seen it for the first time she had said nothing, but her eyes had shown everything. Haunted and cold. 

“If you are going out you may want to cover that up,” she finally said.   
  


“Why?” Elain frowned, reaching over with her other arm to rub over the brand self-consciously.

“Those of the Night Court would not react kindly to seeing the mark of Autumn on a female of the Night, especially not on the sister of their High Lady.” Elain jumped at the sudden presence of Azriel that she hadn’t noticed before, growing resentful of his words.

“I am not simply the ‘ _ sister of the High Lady _ ’ - I am a High Fae made from the Cauldron who drove a dagger through Hybern’s neck. Without me Nesta would be dead, Cassian would be dead, likely  _ everyone  _ would be dead. They have no right to judge me for which court I choose to adorn, nor do they have the right to attempt to dictate my loyalty. They have no right to question me at all. They owe me their lives. At the very least they owe me their respect, especially if they insist on acknowledging me only as Feyre  _ Cursebreaker’s  _ sister.” She found herself sneering her sister’s title. “It is nobody’s business. I have earned  _ that  _ much at the very least.”

The room was entirely silent, so silent that Elain found herself holding her breath to keep it from sounding throughout the quiet room. 

She had never spoken like that - never  _ defended  _ herself like that. It made her so nervous and uncomfortable, yet entirely satisfied and pleased with herself at the same time. However, she also felt guilty.  _ Guilty  _ for standing up for herself. 

And that made her resentment grow all the more. 

Elain sucked in the breath she had been holding completely, breaking the silence as she smoothed her hands over her torso. “I won’t hide myself. There is nothing I can do about it anyway, though if it  _ really  _ bothers you so much I will go get a coat and wear it for whatever portion of the night it remains comfortable if it will get you off of my back.”

She turned to retrieve the coat before they had the chance to reply, her jaw working in her frustration. 

She would humor them, but she refused to let them dictate her life completely. 

* * *

"Seems I keep stumbling upon you when you're intoxicated."

She looked up at the voice of the man who had caught her in the chaos of the dark club, finding her mate's face that had an underlying trace of concern beneath the amusement. He glanced around, his mouth tense as his golden eye scanned and darted quickly around the room.

"Feyre isn't here," she told him, frowning as the spike in her bloodstream dulled slightly as she remembered the last time he had shown up, how he hadn't shown up for her. 

"I wouldn't think she would be," he drawled, slowly tugging her to the door. "Definitely too boring for something like this."

"You can find her house by yourself I assume," she sighed, her eyelids fluttering at her dizziness and the heaviness of her lids. 

"I came to see you, dove," he chuckled, though there was still that worry in his tone. "Not attempting to parent you, but I just watched a male attempt to drug your drink. That is not a friendly bar."

"Really?" She asked, blinking up to clear her eyes. Cool fresh air filled her lungs as he guided her outside. She completely dismissed the last half of his words. They weren't important. "You came to see me?"

He groaned loudly. "You  _ are  _ completely drunk. And alone. I know you're after your independence, but if you plan to get wasted at a bar in the Night Court alone - next time how about you just fucking  _ don't  _ do that, yes?" He sat her down next to him on the grass among the nearby trees, pulling the skirt of her dress down for her. She faintly noticed how fast his heart was going. Had he really been that scared for her? 

"Mor was with me," she said, frowning. "But that was at another bar. And I slipped away when she was distracted with another male." She smirked.

"And why would you do that?" He asked flatly.

Elain pouted and he snorted in response, looking her up and down with an unimpressed expression. She didn't care. 

"I am tired of them," she mumbled, leaning against him and listening to his breath catch. "And she was busy. Besides, I wanted to escape before she brought me in front of another male. She suggested I get 'laid' tonight." She felt him go completely stiff beneath her cheek and her side that rested against him. "And Cassian. Cassian said I should because it was 'better than fox boy taking it'. Which-" She cut off as his whole body shook with the vicious snarl that ripped through him. 

Well, she supposed she hadn’t  _ intentionally  _ baited him that time, had she?

"Shhhh," she shushed him, glaring up at him and poking him hard in the side. "As though I would give myself away to some male at a  _ bar _ ." Her face pulled into a disgusted expression. "I am worth much more than  _ that _ . Do you even know the type of life I lived before I was made?"

"I will have him destroyed," he said softly, his lip curling. "If he ever utters something so disrespectful towards you again - savage Illyrian or no. I will make sure of it."

"Who cares what he says," she said, waving a hand dismissively as her eyes closed to have a rest from the spinning and blurring stars. "I most certainly would not _ever_ demean myself in such a way." Her shoulders slumped lower, her face turning into his arm slightly. "Besides. You have no right to be angry about who I choose to sleep with. Not when you didn't come back."

"First of all, sweetheart,  _ before  _ my jealousy becomes a matter of concern of mine is the offense of those disrespecting  _ you _ in such a way. Second of all, sweetheart, I was only gone for a couple of weeks. I had a few things to get done, and you didn't tell me that-"

"I did tell you!" She exclaimed, sitting up to look at him accusingly. "I told you not to leave!"

He searched her eyes, tilting his head slightly. "You had been drinking - like you have been tonight - and you had gotten into it with your sisters. I didn't know I was meant to take you seriously. Forgive me if I didn't want to make you feel smothered and push you away just as soon as you let me near you," he said gently, his both affectionate and regretful emotions hitting her and sinking their claws into her own. "I am sorry."

"I wasn't even barely drunk!" She cried, dropping her weight back against him. "Not nearly as drunk as I am right now."

"Yes," he agreed. "Not nearly as drunk as you are right now. Which is also relevant to my point."

Her temper flared and her frustration doubled. "No. You can wait until I am sober then. So you believe me. So you won't go away for so long like that again."

"A couple of weeks," he said repeated sweetly, mockingly.

"Yes," she said coldly, having the strong urge to kick him. "A couple of weeks."

"In comparison to..?"

"Alright! I know! I know I avoided you for so long! But then I told you to  _ stay _ ."

"And I am supposed to bend to your every will?"

"Yes," she said sadly, burying her face into his arm.

Warm. He was so warm. That scent from his jacket she had held onto all those months was suddenly so strong and inviting - familiar. That spicy, crisp scent. 

He shuddered at the action and the pacing of his heart quickened again just as it had been beginning to calm.

"Will you take me from the Night Court?"

He stilled, going completely silent for several moments. 

"So you really do want me to kidnap you," he said stiffly, clear desire he was unable to mask straining his tone. "The last time an Archeron female was involved in something like that it created devastating chaos."

"And happiness. Besides, you wouldn't be  _ kidnapping  _ me. I am asking you, and I am not saying  _ forever _ . I am getting to know you, and I want to see more of Prythian. You would bring me back."

"Happiness for some - devastation for others. And you know they will see it as kidnapping."

"Hypocrites."

"Nonetheless. You are not mine to take."

"But I am your mate…"

"That still will not make them accept it."

"I don't  _ care  _ what they accept!"

He sucked in a deep breath, holding it for a while before releasing it. "We can discuss this when you are clear headed, alright? You look gorgeous by the way. It's a good color on you as well. Green. Though I am a bit biased of course. Pleased to have been such an inspiration."

"You wish you were the inspiration," she mumbled, dropping the topic. She was tired of him doubting her anyway, also tired of faintly registering herself sounding so foolish, so she would wait until she was sober as he insisted. "But thank you. I needed to feel better, and I wanted to leave my comfort zone a little bit. Some people seem hostile towards me for this though." She lifted her arm to him.

He ran his fingers over it and she shivered violently as heat seared through her veins, only just falling short of being painful. 

"That is to be expected. It is one thing for a member of the Autumn court to be wandering about here, but a woman with your brandings? The two may not  _ technically  _ be enemies at this very moment, but in the eyes of the members they will always be enemies." 

She stared at him wildly as he didn't note on what he had just sent shooting through her body. Heat gathered and pooled in her stomach. The fire spread from her veins to settle completely through her in a warm, pleasurable hum. 

A very magically induced warmth and not at all just a feeling of heightened temperature.

"You have to be careful. You ought to have let me get rid of them when it was possible. Especially when the Night Court is your own."

She was distracted from the alarmingly pleasurable buzz that he had clearly intentionally sent through her at his words. His words that - to her surprise - offended her. 

"This is  _ not  _ my court. I'm not even… There is nothing that ties me here!" 

"I lived in Spring when I am Autumn."

"It's not the same. The circumstances are not the same. I am to be of the Night Court simply because my sister is? This doesn't feel like home."

"You are cauldron made, Elain," he said carefully. "I have no idea how that works." 

"I just… I want sunlight. Yes, there is sun here, but... I want to see other places. I want to  _ see _ . During the war I couldn't… During the war it was as though I was hollow. Like I was dragging my soul behind me without actually being in my body." She shivered. "All I remember was blood. So much blood and death - all over everything.  _ Everything. _ I want to see Prythian without it. Will you take me? There is no one else to take me."

He sighed. "I would go with you anywhere in the world - no matter where you wanted to go. I am at your complete disposal." He looked down at her. "However, there are other factors at work here. And I don't want to do anything that could result in losing a chance with you forever."

She looked up at him, searching his eyes full on - taking him in. Such depth to him, so much she didn't understand. Her breath hitched, caught in that moment. 

Her mate. Her home. Her - 

Her eyelids fluttered and she shook her head, attempting to pull herself together. "Lucien." He closed his eyes and slightly turned his head as her soft tone around his name affected him. A shameful, giddy thrill rushed through her at how she could influence him. 

“I will do everything to make you comfortable and content, Elain. No matter what I do or don’t have to do in order to achieve that.”

* * *

Lucien closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before rereading the letter again. A lesser fae of Spring- a pretty thing he had often conversed with on the matters of the small section of land she lived on where a small town surrounded her, bringing her bread and other basic essentials for her children in exchange. Small, but well populated. 

Well, it  _ had been  _ well populated. Before Feyre happened and the consequences of her vengeful behavior became evident after Hybern hit. 

The letter was begging him to return, to help, to speak sense to Tamlin. But he had tried, he had  _ tried  _ to reason with Tamlin for the sake of the Fae of the Spring Court - the court he cared so deeply for despite how its High Lord had cast him out. His best friend.

He supposed he would just have to try again. If anyone was going to convince Tamlin it would be Lucien. Stubborn bastard.

But Elain - returning to the Spring Court would change things with how easily he would be able to see Elain. Elain who had fallen asleep so sweetly against his arm not long after his promise to her, who he had carried home and left again immediately after, despite what she had said about him staying. 

But she had been drunk. Which seemed to be a frequent occurrence as of late. Concerning, of course, but he could not try to parent her in that aspect, nor did he have any place to judge when it came to the matter of drinking too much. 

“I am leaving.” 

“What?” Vassa asked, blinking at him as she shook her head in confusion, watching him gather his things. 

“I am returning to Spring.”

“You already tried that! He kicked you out.”

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head himself. “I’ll have to try again.” 

“Wait.” Vassa caught his hand as he tied his bag together. He didn’t care to gather all of his clothing. He could easily purchase more at the Spring Court, and he wasn’t one to frequent the same set of clothes for long anyway. 

He looked down at her hand with a neutral expression. “This isn’t my home, Vassa,” he told her calmly.   
  


“And the Spring Court is?” She demanded, practically throwing his hand away from her. “We’ve,  _ I’ve _ , been more of a home to you than anyone else.”

“You’re angry,” he countered, quirking his eyebrow slightly. “And I haven’t the faintest idea why. I have turned your advancements down more than once. Flattered, but I am not interested." She was quite attractive for a human though, but he had found little interest in the looks of other women as of late. 

"That does not mean you aren't my friend," she said, jerking her head back in offense, glaring at him. 

"Yes. I am your friend, Vassa," he said, his voice a bit more gentle. "And both of you have been good to me and here when I desperately needed support. Thank you. I will never forget that." He searched her eyes for a moment thoughtfully. "But I have to move on now. This life is not suited for me, and my kind need me."

"Your kind," she repeated bitterly, looking away from him. "Right. Not worth it to hang around a human when you have  _ your kind  _ waiting for you." 

"Green may look good on redheads, Vassa, but this shade doesn't become you. Dismissing everything else - I have a mate. Whether I leave or stay that will not change."

Vassa snorted. "That meek little girl doesn't  _ want  _ you. She can't  _ handle  _ someone like you, you belong with someone who -"

She cut off as he was suddenly in front of her, his eyes burning into hers. "Do not," he said softly, his tone dark and careful. "Ever speak of my mate in such a way again. Keep her name out of your fucking mouth. Yes?"

He watched her swallow hard, unable to break her gaze from him though she surely wanted to. To her credit, she  _ was _ trying to hold onto her nerve, not willing to  _ completely  _ back down from him, though the scent of fear coming from her was unmistakable.

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

"Good," he said, stepping back and offering her a lazy smile. "Glad to hear it. Now, let's try not to leave on such a bad note. It's not you, it's me. Or however that sentiment goes." He made a dismissive gesture.

"Fine, Lucien," Vassa said, her voice still tight though she had decently recovered from being shaken by his sudden viciousness. "I hope you find your home again."

As did he, but he knew better than to become too confident in achieving his hopes.

* * *

  
  


"Fuck, Tam," Lucien breathed, shaking his head dubiously at the state of the great hall of the mansion that used to be so familiar to him. It was nearly unrecognizable in its current state.

There was a booming snarl and Tamlin in his beast form came bounding into the room, teeth bared and gleaming. Lucien gave him a dull look.

"Don't trouble yourself. I can assure you no one is coming to rob this place," he drawled, running a finger over the dust that coated the top of an armchair. 

Tamlin's curled lip trembled madly with another snarl before he was human again. He stalked over to the liquor table to snatch a glass, pouring a drink and holding it out impatiently. 

"Always such a gentleman," Lucien said with a smirk, walking over to him to take it. 

"You came back."

"Always such an observant male as well." He continued when Tamlin only answered with a sneer, filling his own glass. "I never left. I was forced out."

Lucien expected a rebuttal regarding how he had betrayed him by fraternizing with the Night Court, but Tamlin was only quiet in response, his eyes casting downward. Lucien felt his eyebrows come together in confusion and slight discomfort. 

"Why did you come back, Lucien?"

"Because this is where I want to be, Tam," he sighed. "And you're a fucking mess. You need me. This  _ court  _ needs me."

Tamlin's jaw flexed and he poured himself another drink, having already finished his first. 

"You've made a mess. You've been an idiot. I'm not going to hold back on my opinions on this anymore, Tamlin. I tried that, and you and everything else got worse. You're my best friend. You fucked up royally, you asshole, but you're still my best friend."

He waited for the anger, for his claws to come out at Lucien's audacity to speak to him in such a way. With how sensitive his temper had been those final months Lucien hadn't expected anything different. But Tamlin's eyes simply closed, and he only looked exhausted in response. 

"I know," he finally said with a slight shudder. 

"What?"

"I know, Lucien," he said again and turned to him, his voice stronger. "I know I have destroyed my court. Myself. And I almost destroyed our friendship. I… kicked you out. Which was the most idiotic choice I could have made."

The stubborn bastard was saying he was  _ right _ ? 

"I agree," Lucien said brightly, brushing aside the emotion that panged through him at the words. "Pleased we can start off on the same page. This means you are allowing me to stay, yes?"

Tamlin nodded wordlessly, his eyes unfocused. 

"Perfect." Lucien grimaced as he examined the state of things again. "Hopefully my room hasn't been reduced to dusty rubble like the rest of the place has. And don't put my belongings out again like that. Honestly, Tam. You don't have to lift a finger to order servants to clean the damn place every once in a while."

Tamlin was only quiet again, leaning against the liquor table as his face only fell more slack with exhaustion. 

Lucien hissed out a curse. "You really are a wreck. For cauldron's sake," he nearly snapped. "Letting yourself go will not help  _ anyone _ . No matter if you wanted it or not - you are High Lord. People are counting on you, and -"

"And I let them down," Tamlin murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Over a female. How could I possibly face my court after that?"

"You let them down," Lucien repeated. "And now you have to bring them back up. Swallow your pride and bear your shame and  _ move on _ . Brooding yourself to death in a pile of ruin will only let them down more."

Tamlin smiled wryly. "You're speaking back to me more as you used to. You grew fearful of me near the end there."

"I have always been rather intelligent so, yes, naturally I began to fear you when you became more and more threatening and began to forget who I was to you. Always held a healthy respect to listen to you and attempt to stay somewhat in my place, but you were ready to tear anyone's heads off the moment they said anything." Lucien's eyes fluttered as he shook off the feelings of pained fear he had held for his friend who he had  _ trusted _ , trusted to always be his friend in return. "But I am tired, Tam. And getting you back together is the only hope for this court, and I have learned I do not have a home wandering around out there. So I will risk what I have to. Not much to lose at this point. I am loyal to these people… and to you. You know that. So take my other eye if you’d like."

"And what of the Night Court?" He asked, his voice even more hollow than before. 

Lucien pursed his lips at him for a moment before walking to the nearby desk to write a letter to Alis for her to bring herself and other servants back. He couldn't deal with this mess for long. Disgusting. "Yes, what  _ of  _ the Night Court?" Lucien answered, scowling. "I don't know what gave you this impression that I traded you to be best friends with Rhysand." He snorted. "And those Illyrians. I was there for my mate and because I was siding with  _ all  _ of Prythian working with those who were the most organized in fighting Hybern. I have not stayed in the Night Court for quite some time, and they were not fond of me there either. Last time I was there was to communicate with Feyre on whether or not there was anything we should know regarding the human realm, and I ended up speaking with Elain instead. She seems sick of the court as well from the small amount of time I had to observe her."

Lucien’s scowl deepened when he found the pile of papers and untouched letters, completely untended to or bothered with. He made an exasperated sort of growl and dropped himself into the chair to desk, sorting through it all to begin working. 

"No need to bother with a lot of it. Most of it is too old to be relevant anyway."

Lucien looked up at him to glare, letting out a long breath through his nose as he held his tongue and went back to the work. So politically inept. Even with Tamlin at his best Lucien doubted the court would be much better off than with Tamlin at his worst if he wasn't around to help the idiot. 

"I'm glad you're back, Lucien," Tamlin said after many minutes, long enough that he thought he had left. 

"Glad for you too, Tam." Lucien waved a hand. "Go take a nap. The least you could do is work on the pretty face that represents this court. The bags under your eyes make my incomplete set of eyes look flawless next to yours." 

"Lucien."

He made a sound in the back of his throat before he looked up to meet Tamlin's green eyes, finding them searching and sincere with emotion. 

"I'm sorry."   
  


* * *

"Lucien is back in Spring," Rhys announced, lifting the letter he had just finished reading up slightly in reference. 

"What?" Feyre asked with a frown, disappointment crossing her face. 

"It was inevitable. The small amount of time everything has happened from when the two of them met you does not compare to the decades Lucien has been by Tamlin's side. He's loyal to a fault." He scoffed to himself, handing her the letter. "It's better this way. I can guarantee the Spring court is already halfway back up and running as though nothing happened, if not already there. I may loathe Tamlin - but Prythian doesn't need one of its courts left in ruin. He should be kissing Lucien's feet for all he does for his court. Tamlin is purely warrior, and that's about all he does for Spring. Lucien handles pretty much everything else."

Elain bit her lip, her unfocused eyes scanning the space in front of her as her thoughts rushed about at the news.

"And judging by how politically formal that letter is I would say he is officially setting himself back from the relationship he has had with the Night Court."

But wasn't Spring an enemy court? How would Elain see her mate? 

"Well that's it then I guess," Feyre said coldly. "I shouldn't have hoped for more. But you're right, the Spring Court needs someone to rebuild since Tamlin destroyed it."

Didn't  _ she  _ have a hand in destroying it? 

"He can't be welcome to waltz into the court whenever he pleases anymore then," Mor said, her voice colder than Feyre's, looking to Cassian who nodded. "He has chosen his side, even after everything Tamlin has done to him and Feyre. He went back anyway. If that's his decision then so be it. He can't have it both ways."

A stunning wave of resentment swept over Elain for the female, adrenaline rushing through her and nearly numbing her as all of her focus zeroed in on Mor. 

“Elain,” Mor said evenly, immediately sensing the shift in her. “He’s your mate, yes. You can’t control what you’re feeling naturally, but -”

“How will I see him then?” Elain asked calmly despite the angry flame in her throat, turning to Rhysand. 

“You know you don’t  _ have  _ to see him, Elain,” Feyre said, frowning. “The bond will nag at you for a while, but it will fade. It’s his burden to bear more than it is yours.”

“How will I see him?” Elain repeated just as calmly, blinking slowly at her sister while holding her gaze.

Elain’s lip twitched as it threatened to curl when she watched Rhysand glance at Feyre as they so  _ sweetly  _ communicated silently. How  _ charming  _ and  _ romantic  _ they were. They behaved as though they were the only ones who had a mate, and no one could possibly understand how deep their connection ran. Feyre pressed her lips together before breaking her eyes away from her mate to address Elain.

Rhysand was letting  _ her  _ decide apparently. 

“For right now while we try to figure that matter out given the circumstances, you will have -”

  
“For  _ right now  _ I will see my mate when I please, Feyre. I was asking you how, not  _ if _ ,” she told her, her voice dropping in temperature as her senses turned to something purely feral. “And I  _ will  _ see him - whether I am  _ permitted _ to or not.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will likely be closer to this length than the first, as the first was only so long because it was originally meant to be a one-shot. Sorry if this chapter wasn't too eventful - there were things that needed to be laid out! Also, excuse me for any mistakes - I am tipsy editing this, lol. Thank you for reading! <3


	3. Chapter 3

"It's so good to have you home, Lord Lucien." 

Lucien paused his steps along the path of the garden, glancing beside it to find the gardening faerie brushing her dirt covered hands off on her thighs as she rose from the patch of plants she was working on. She smiled a bit shyly at him, hopping over her work gracefully and onto the path with him. 

"Melrose," he greeted, nodding towards the spot she had been tending too. "Never seen any of you get your hands so dirty. Are you struggling?"

She sighed, turning to scan the rest of the seemingly endless garden with a small shake of her head. "My earth magic… It is still just as strong as it always has been, thank the Cauldron, but these lands… This soil. There is rot here. The roots of everything have been terribly damaged by the war, and then with the neglect the rot has only been allowed to secure itself more strongly over time. We will have to pluck everything out root by root if we want to protect the future growth." 

She held out a periwinkle flecked hand, her skin the texture of the flower petals she worked so carefully with. A small sprout surfaced, its thin roots spreading and wrapping around her fingers and palm in search of a sturdy place to lay. "If there is only rot and death to reside in… such haunted darkness… new life will never be able to thrive and grow."

He nodded slowly, watching the sprout's roots grow more desperate as they climbed up her arm before losing strength and going limp. She gently shook the dead and lifeless plant from her palm and offered him a sad smile, her large and cat-like pupils noticeably weary. "Don't worry, Lord Lucien. We will restore everything, but it will take great time and care."

He chuckled. "Worried? You insult me. I would never hire incapable work. I know you and your kin are the best. Though, you should have informed me of how dire things were - I will have to up your pay. Seeing such a delicate creature working so physically hard." He tsked. "It would be an injustice to not, at the very least, _attempt_ to compensate you for such troubles."

Though even attempting seemed insulting, as there was nothing to compensate these faeries for all they had suffered - for how Tamlin, and himself, had failed them.

"You returning us to our duties is compensation enough. Our kind… Suffer with the land we have grown with. It wears on us terribly. Those of my kind from Spring grew terribly ill, and lives have been lost simply from the lack of strength to withstand the death and rot of the earth we are connected to."

The pain of guilt and remorse spread through him just as the roots that spread across her nearly translucent skin had. He took her soft hand, bowing to kiss the back of it. "Please offer your kind my sincerest apologies, Melrose. Please, whatever you need - write it down and leave it at the house, alright? _Whatever_ you need." He released her hand and straightened, looking out towards the rest of the gardens himself. He knew they would ask for nothing. "My mate absolutely adores gardening. Makes all this just a _bit_ more personal. So know you are important in that personal way as well as how important you are to this entire court as a whole."

Melrose's eyes lit up. "Your mate loves the earth?" Her wings that resembled the leaves of those of a flower sprouted into existence behind her and rustled happily. 

"She does."

The floating white of Melrose's hair shimmered and pulsed in the breeze and she cupped her throat with one hand, running it down to her heart and closing her eyes. With a deep inhale he saw a glow through her tunic made up of weaved vine and she pulled what looked like a glowing thread from her chest and brought her hands together. Finally, she took his hand to place a delicately knit ear cuff made of shimmering, almost opalescent twine in his hand. She beamed as he stared at it.

"It is a piece of my magic and life - a fragment of the energy of my essence. It will do nothing particularly special - only make an extra amount of life and healing flow through her hands when she gifts back into the earth." Melrose hummed to herself with a sort of excitement, her eyes shining with something ancient and grateful. "Tell her we adore her for her care and her effort."

Elain wasn’t even present and she still so easily earned the adoration of others.

"Thank you very much, Melrose," Lucien said after blinking at it, swallowing his reflexive protests against her offering something so precious. It was rude to fight a gift in such a way. "You are incredibly gracious." 

She bowed her head, the pretty flush to her cheeks mixing with the color of her skin in an oddly lovely way. She stepped towards her small patch again and dropped back down to her knees, resuming her careful work.

Lucien was still wandering through the gardens as he tried to organize all of what he needed to get done in his head when he froze, his hand moving to push just below his ribs as he sucked in a breath. 

Elain. 

* * *

And then he was there. 

Elain tearfully went to him, grabbing onto him desperately so he would hold her close. "Please," she whimpered. 

And then they were gone. Without another word.

Elain stared down at the black and white marble floor beneath her, stepping out of Lucien's arms to clumsily gain her footing without him as the horrid amount of winnowing sent a violent wave of nausea through her and she feared she may vomit. A thousand different smells overwhelmed her, making her head swim and she blinked dubiously. Had she ever experienced such a jump between courts before? 

Such a stark difference, and there was such an obvious distinction between courts that she knew she was in a Seasonal court rather than a Solar even without having any experience in telling the difference. 

She was in Spring.

And she had been there before, hadn't she? During the war. Though that was such a distant version of herself - a nightmare form of herself. She knew she had been there… But she _couldn't_ have been there. It felt so foreign and strange that it sent a shock through her system. 

The scents were so _fresh_. She felt as though she could breathe.

"Elain," Lucien said gently, steadying her. 

She furiously wiped the tears that blurred her vision with the palm of her hand. Her mate was searching her face with such worry that it stilled all of her wild thoughts.

"What happened?" 

There was a stiffness to his voice as he struggled to hold back from viciously demanding the answer from her, and the sheer protectiveness that came off of him in waves was all the more telling. 

Her eyes scanned the manor and she didn't answer him for several moments as she took it all in. So different from the High Lord of Night's arrangements and choice of living - classic and elegant. Proper and clearly class separating. Her eyes found Lucien's again and traveled down his form, finding the way he presented himself a bit different than before. 

Well, he certainly matched the fashion of the manor. 

"Nesta," she said finally, her voice almost confused. She _was_ confused, confused how Feyre could do this to their sister. "S-She's making her… Those barbaric camps…" Lucien shook his head, waiting for her to explain further. "She's sending Nesta to the Illyrian camps."

He straightened slightly and blinked, clearly caught off guard by her words. 

"Poor Nesta… I have heard such cruel things about them…" Elain pressed her hands against her cheeks, shaking her head as she stared past him at nothing. "What if she does the same to me?" 

Lucien's dark chuckle would have made anyone who didn't naturally trust him to their core as Elain did instinctively cringe away. 

"She wouldn’t even have the chance to _try_ before I would be tearing her whole miserable court apart."

She shivered, wondering how a man who wielded fire could hold such a paralyzing chill to his voice. 

"I didn't think you would come," she said, her voice small as she looked up to hold his russet and gold gaze.

"You were calling out to me." Lucien's brows came together and he reached forward to tuck the pieces of hair that had fallen out of the style she had fashioned it into behind her ear. She reflexively turned her cheek towards his hand. 

"Yes, but…" She felt the hurt touch her features despite herself. "You haven't been there."

He closed his eyes, dropping his head down with a sigh and moving his hand from the side of her face to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. 

"I have been very busy, love," he said finally. " _You_ are the most important thing in my life. But this court - these people - they're important to me as well, and they desperately needed me. Their whole way of life was depending on me. If I had known Feyre was pulling these types of stunts…" He shook his head incredulously, looking up at the ceiling and muttering incoherently to himself. "In addition to that - we received a formal letter from the Night Court reminding us that those of Spring are _not_ to cross their borders. And it was clear why that _reminder_ was sent."

She stared at him, her temper rapidly rising and catching in her throat. She moved back, her lips parting as her eyes became unfocused.

The _audacity_.

“So, what?” She pushed the words past her lips forcefully, her nostrils flaring as she began to pace, not knowing how else to express the adrenaline that her rush of anger brought on. “I am to remain in a court I had no say in, forced to interact with all of these… _Creatures_ that I now share a likeness to in a body that I had no say in, and on top of that be denied access to the male I am bound to body and soul forever due to a bond that _I had no say in_. So I am to suffer for all of these things that, again, surprise!” She laughed in a near mad way. “I had no say in!” 

She didn’t look to see Lucien’s reaction or any response he had to offer, continuing her pacing as she shook her head again as she only grew more furious. “ _Locked_ away. Locked away, Lucien. How else am I meant to describe it? That’s what it is, isn’t it? Ultimately? Which is just _so funny_ ,” she ground out, feeling her eyes flash as she laughed again. “So funny! Considering-” She broke off, halting in her pacing as she braced the heels of her palms against her temples, turning back towards Lucien but pausing at the form at the entryway behind him. She wildly motioned at it in exasperation. “Considering that!”

“What have I done now,” the High Lord of Spring said as he resumed his steps into the room Elain and her mate were in, his eyelids drooping slightly in a tiredly frustrated way. 

“Nothing this time,” Lucien said, his tone casual. She turned to see him raise a brow. “Elain was only using your past transgressions as a means to point out hypocrisy.”

“Hypocrisy from..?”

“Feyre!”

“Feyre,” Lucien confirmed gravely. “I may have broken the orders of another court taking my mate from her -”

“Prison,” Elain muttered. 

“- sister’s home.”

Tamlin pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, just so I know I am following along properly, you stole Elain -”

“Stole,” Elain scoffed.

“- from the Night Court, therefore disregarding their warnings, because they would not allow her to see you.”

“Yes,” Elain said at the same time Lucien said, “Not entirely.”

Her gaze met her mate’s before he continued. “Feyre is sending Nesta to the Illyrian camps. Because,” he cut off, frowning at her in question.

Elain swallowed hard, straightening her shoulders after gritting her teeth. “Because she has been getting drunk and bringing random men home with her. As well as nearly cutting the rest of us off all together.” She looked away, her throat constricting. “Including me.” She sucked in a breath, composing herself before looking back to the two males. “While using Rhysand and Feyre’s money to pay her rent.” Elain rolled her eyes before she could catch herself. “As though they need it, and as though they don’t _owe_ her for all they have for what she has done for all of their kind.” 

_Their_ kind. As though Nesta and Elain didn’t fall into the category of _their kind_.

“She is miserable.” Elain’s shoulders fell. “And they are sending her to that _awful_ place. My sister…” She attempted to rake her fingers through her hair but the style of it disrupted the path of her hand. “And _I_ am miserable. And now that they are casting her out… What if I keep getting worse too until I end up as bad as Nesta? Until they force _me_ into such camps… Or _something_ , as I certainly believe nobody would believe me capable of handling such a place.”

She could see Lucien’s lip curl but she directed her focus on Tamlin. To his credit, he did not smirk or hold any sort of gloating or victorious expression. Instead he rubbed his lips together, considering her words.

“Well,” he said finally, looking towards Lucien before her. “With you being my most loyal friend and court member’s mate -”

“- and being the female you are ultimately responsible for dragging into this terrible and foreign world.” 

He nodded to her once in acknowledgment and glanced to Lucien again, the slightest amount of amusement faintly lifting his lips. “- and being the female I am ultimately responsible for dragging into this terrible and foreign world - the priority over you comes before the priority over the tense ‘peace’ with the Night Court that we hold.” 

"However," Tamlin continued after a few moments and Elain froze. "If Lucien returns you within the fourteen hours that Prythian allows for an instance such as this before he is in much more severe violation - technically there are certain laws that could be brought to attention going forward. I am not sure of the laws of the Night Court, but as there is another court involved it changes how things are done. Most see that a male has a right to his mate, and that you belong to him unless you reject the bond. Meaning in the eyes of the other courts they would support Lucien. From there it will depend on how the Night Court will choose to act - if they think war is worth it. But if Lucien chooses to break laws in the meantime then they probably would not be so keen to support our side so easily. Broken laws are broken laws."

"So this is something you could have already done? Since I have not rejected the bond? Even when I refused to speak to you?" Elain shook her head as she pictured him all those months ago, watching her with such pining and devastated eyes, confused at the idea of him not taking such an opportunity. Surely…

"I didn't want to lay claim to you like that, Elain, didn't think _you_ would want me to lay claim to you like that."

"What is that?" Tamlin interrupted evenly, evenly in a very forced manner.

Elain followed his gaze to her side - to her arm that bared the brand of Autumn.

"If you don't want me to give you a smartass answer then I suggest you get along with it because we both know you know exactly what it is," Lucien said dully. "And I am attempting to save my disrespect for my High Lord for later times."

"Lucien," Tamlin said accusingly, irritation thick in his tone. "You marked your female with the claim of Autumn? When she is of the Night Court?" 

Elain narrowed her eyes. "I am not _of_ anything. If I am then I am _of_ Family Archeron. I am _of_ the human world." She pulled some pins from her hair that were stabbing into her scalp and tossed them aside and onto the floor in frustration. "I am _of_ the cauldron."

Lucien inclined his head towards Tamlin, giving him a pointed, almost warning look. "You heard the female, Tam." There was a venomous sort of edge to his tone, an edge she knew she had never heard come from any human. "She is not of anything."

Tamlin stiffened, bristling slightly on reflex. For a moment Elain was worried he'd become angry - she had heard of his temper - but in less than a second the hostility was gone and he only looked stressed for his friend. He glanced at her before dipping his head toward Lucien in understanding. 

"We will discuss this later then." He looked back to her as he was about to leave the room to let them be, offering her somewhat of a polite smile. "Elain. Spring is at your disposal."

* * *

"There is a High Lord meeting," Lucien started at breakfast the following morning.

Elain rubbed her temples tiredly, frustrated she was awake. "It's so early," she mumbled, attempting to sit up straight. She was at the breakfast table for goodness' sake. 

It had already been dark when Lucien had brought her the previous night, and as soon as Tamlin had left Elain had been immediately hit with exhaustion. She had been too groggy to take much note of the lovely room she had been brought to to sleep, but she knew it had been across from Lucien's.

She also knew that she had been highly reluctant to sleep in any room but his. 

"Pay attention," he said.

Her mouth fell open at his rudeness, her eyes snapping open to catch the rolling of his own. He only gaped back at her mockingly before holding her gaze in challenge. She pursed her lips and huffed through her nose, busying herself with assessing her breakfast options. 

"Good girl," he crooned. 

She ignored him, continuing her inspection. 

"There is a High Lord meeting," he started again. "As sort of a… catch up - since Hybern." He grimaced. "Quite convenient for us considering our situation, but quite a nuisance otherwise. Especially considering my father and my siblings will be in attendance when you will be as well."

Elain froze as the pupil of his remaining eye dilated, consuming nearly all of the rich color, his golden eye clicking louder than she had ever heard it until the sounds from it stopped completely. He was unnaturally still until she saw his tongue run across his white teeth through his parted lips that were curled up into a deadly smile.

"And if they try anything with you, Elain, I fear I may deeply terrify you." His eyes were distant, the humor in them void of any trace of life. "And that is the last thing I wish to happen." 

Elain swallowed hard and she found herself blinking quickly as she attempted to clear her head to find another topic, to change the subject - she needed to change the subject. 

She had never seen him quite like that. 

"Is she here?"

"She?" 

Elain refrained from breathing an audible sigh of relief when she watched the life return to his eyes. She touched her right ear that the cuff Lucien had given her before she had gone to sleep was wrapped around. 

"Melrose? No. They do not work at the ends of the week," he answered smoothly, resuming his casual demeanor without faltering. 

Elain frowned, gathering fruits onto her plate. "I wanted to thank her." 

"I will tell her as much." He gave her a warm smile before pouring her a cup of tea which she gratefully took, smiling more to herself rather than back to him at the silly way just his smile made her feel.

"Do you believe Feyre will truly take it further than this? That the other High Lords will have to intervene?" Elain asked sadly. "Rhysand seems to be more understanding, but he lets her 'handle' us. Perhaps this whole thing will show her how unhappy I am, and… Maybe it will serve as a reminder." She suddenly felt a bit of shame. "Though the last thing I want to do is make my sister relive any of what she suffered." She closed her eyes. "But she doesn't seem to realize that is what she is doing. I believe -" She stopped herself to pull her emotions back together. 

She did not want to cry _again_. She was finished crying.

"I believe you likely know her better than I do at this point. I was a terrible sister. I was terrible in general. I lived in my own world, ignoring everything I didn't want to face. I let her… Ugh." She shook her head in disgust at herself. "And perhaps this is her knowing _me_ better than I ever knew her. Who I was before at least. I was happy living a quiet life, happy being _safe_ . I _was_ easily spooked and terrified of everything. And I certainly was never _angry_ . I am always so _angry_ , Lucien. Can I fault her for simply _knowing_ me?"

"You are angry because you are not human, Elain - because you have many new instincts that you didn't have before. Stronger and more demanding instincts, and instead of running or being able to look the other way from things that upset you - you want to fight it all instead." 

The lump forming in her throat began to grow even more painful, but she still refused to cry.

"You are so new. An infant, practically, in this body, and on top of that you are so ridiculously young _in general_. Feyre struggled too, but she also had a different fighting spirit about her to begin with that you did not. I hope that we will not have to take things much further, as I still see her as a friend. Not the friend that I used to see her as, but a friend nonetheless. She is also your sister, and I hate the pain this is causing you and I desperately hope this doesn't leave permanent damage on your relationship. I sincerely doubt it has clicked in her head how her previous situation compares to yours. She loves you, and yes - she knew you as you were."

Feyre knew her as she _was_. Not who she had become. Elain did not have any idea who - what - she had been turned into, so how could she expect Feyre?

"I died in that cauldron," she whispered, the tears she had finally failed to hold back running down her face in their familiar paths as an overwhelming sense of mourning swept over her - mourning for herself. "I died, and I am never coming back."

"No." The sharpness in his voice immediately cleared her eyes. "You did not _die_ , Elain. You were reborn. You still have your human soul, and you are struggling to find yourself because everything fae is getting in the way and demanding your attention." He leaned forward, his gaze intense and uncompromising, his brutal scar adding to the effect of his tone. 

"Don't you act like that. Don't you go back to leaving yourself as a shell of self-pity because you're trying to escape the body you have been given. You are stronger than that." 

His face didn't soften but she still didn't shrink back as she would have expected to - as anyone else would have expected her to.

"I won't coddle you, Elain. You don't deserve that type of disrespect, and you certainly won't be getting it from me."

Her face was impassive though she knew there was something cool behind it at being reprimanded as she stared back at him. 

She inhaled deeply through her nose and held it for several moments before relaxing her stiff demeanor, nodding slowly. "You're right.” The words burned her slightly coming out despite how they were true.

"You will find, my dear, that that is quite the regular occurrence." He smirked and she held back a childish reaction. Unfortunately, she didn't doubt it - her clever fox.

"Will you tell me about the other courts? Please. I know… Nothing." She scowled, stabbing her fork into some sausage to cut it as she changed the subject. "I don't like being clueless. I knew all the ins and outs at home. Who was who… Who was with who… Who was with who they weren't _supposed_ to be with in secret…" Her eyes narrowed as she thought back on her previous life, her mouth fighting a mischievous smirk. "I knew many secrets. Secrets that could destroy people's lives." She took a bite of her sausage, feeling her eyes gleam. 

She looked up to find both of his eyebrows raised at her and he leaned back in his seat, looking her up and down and sizing her up. 

He blinked, pouring himself some more tea and snorting. "Tell you about the other courts? Alright. That," he began, picking his fork back up and pointing it at her. "is a good summary of the way of the Autumn Court."

She tilted her head, sitting back. "What?"

"Autumn is made up of opportunists. Everyone is ambitious, and most are perfectly fine doing anything and everything to achieve those ambitions. Whatever it takes. It's a court of social ladders and competition. It's… A game. Essentially everyone in Autumn is born into a game. A game of wits, connections, strategy, and so on. It's incredibly hard to climb, and incredibly easy to fall. Truly. One misstep." He snapped his fingers. "You hit the ground." He gave her an amused look. "From your words - it sounds like you held the advantages that the members of Autumn strive for. No wonder the magic of Autumn considered you worthy of a brand."

She raised her brows in challenge, looking him up and down as well and lifting her chin up slightly. "Are you calling me a snake?"

"That's precisely what I am calling you, sweetheart."

She narrowed her eyes. "I am smart."

"Yes - clever. And, depending on the social structure one is from as well as what someone wants from life, there are many times where being a snake is the most intelligent choice."

She sniffed, giving him another once-over before going back to her food with a hum of an acknowledgment. "Go on."

He snorted again and she gave him a flat look which he responded to with a wink. 

"The different relationships between courts is," he paused, looking towards the ceiling and sucking his teeth while considering. "Difficult to explain and difficult to summarize considering the mass amount of history. Typically Dawn and Day get along well, but Dawn and Day keep to themselves for the most part as it is. Especially Dawn. The -"

"How does the Dawn Court work?" She interrupted, leaning forward with interest. 

He tsked. "It's quite bad manners to interrupt," he chided. "Here I was thinking you came from a family that valued propriety." He smiled when she glared at him, swiping jam over a biscuit. 

"Dawn in general does not care to include themselves in many matters. They value arts - music, dance, poetry, that sort of thing. Of course all faeries usually enjoy all of that." He waved a hand. "But they are quite competitive about it. Talent is what achieves status - and beauty. They're competitive with their extravagance and design of their homes, their clothing, their own physical appearance. Luxury is very important to them - and pleasure. They are said to have the best pleasure houses in Prythian. Other than that, usually more so in the smaller cities that keep to themselves, they are rather talented at tinkering and clockwork.

"Summer Court is more peaceful as well. Especially with Tarquin." He rolled his eyes. "Lovely cities, fishing, markets, and so on."

"You don't like Tarquin?"

"I like Tarquin. He's just young, and it's evident that he’s young. A bit soft as well, but he will be a good and fair High Lord - and that in itself is more than our kind can ever ask for. Humans as well from what I've seen of them. Hopefully the power won't go to his head."

Elain nodded thoughtfully, filing away the mass amount of info as carefully as she could, attempting to keep from feeling overwhelmed.

"Summer is a court that is more keen on intermingling than others. Friendlier." Lucien gave a pointed look to her arm. "Unlike Autumn, which is one of the courts who fiercely value the blood of their own. If they intermarry - nearly always the faerie of the other court would have to be the female, and she would have to be brought to Autumn after severing all of her loyalty to her previous court. Night is similar. As is Winter, Day,” he mused. “Though all courts have sections of people who are very… Attached to the idea of the blood and culture of their own court."

He paused to pour them both another cup of tea, muttering about how she was lucky he liked to talk. 

"Winter is similar to Autumn. However - less barbaric, at least in an obvious sense. They are two-faced in a way that Autumn is not. Autumn is much more malicious where those of Winter find it beneath them to find sadistic enjoyment out of the games they play as many of those from Autumn. Autumn is cutthroat where Winter is careful and delicate." He chuckled. "Since you seem to enjoy court related puns and metaphors - when you burn someone to death, they scream immediately, yes? It's a shock to the system. Many say that being burned to death is the worst way to die. Now - freezing to death. You go numb. You grow tired. It creeps up on you, and by the time it's there you can't help but give in to it. It feels too right - easy. And then you're gone. Both fatal, though Winter loves their elegance. Autumn is fine with flashiness."

Elain nodded slowly. "So Winter."

"Hmm?" 

"I would be closer to Winter. Since you were comparing me to Autumn Fae. Based on what you just said, I would be closer to Winter."

He considered her words. "In ways, yes. Though as my mate I am going to be biased, no matter my current relationship with my court. I am still an Autumn High Fae male."

She squirmed in her seat slightly, hiding an automatic smile at the thought of him liking the fact she had qualities of his court - though she knew she probably _shouldn't_ be pleased with the fact at all herself considering what was said about Autumn.

Though there were positives and negatives of every court, yes? And they _were_ High Fae. She couldn't hold them, or now herself, to the moral standards of humans. 

They were _meant_ to be cold and brutal. Instinctual.

Inhuman.

"The Day Court is likely the most strict and controlling. Controlling of the life paths of its members at least, though the people are not unhappy. As far as I know, anyway, as I have never met a member of Day who did not have a deep respect for the system of their court."

Elain waited for him to go further into detail, fully engaged then. Such fantasy and wonder - she felt as though she was a little girl again being told a bedtime story. 

Now she was a part of the bedtime story.

"All of the children of Day must attend years of schooling and training. Throughout those years, each of them are thoroughly observed in order to pinpoint the strongest potential of every child. From there they are sorted into one of three categories - warrior, inventor, or scholar."

"They are forced into a role forever?"

He clasped his hands together as his face remained thoughtful, his elbows resting on the table. Quite improper of him, which amused her. Though she was still pleased that, for the most part, he was well mannered. 

"I suppose you could see it that way, but that's not how they see it. They have thousands of libraries, and they're responsible for archiving the entirety of Prythian's history and everything known, and everything that has ever been known, about magic. They're a bit too busy to be bitter about what they're responsible for."

Elain stared past him, her eyes slightly wide as she tried to wrap her mind around it. Thousands… Thousands of libraries… Covering all of their history and their magic.

"That…" She breathed, shaking her head to shake the dizzying thoughts away. "That's rather insane. That High Lord must be someone quite admirable to deal with all of that without being driven mad in the process"

Lucien's eyes held an odd sort of humor. "Rhysand may be said to be the 'most powerful', but Helion is unrivaled in intelligence."

Elain did not doubt it.

"And Spring?" She asked. She wanted to force him to tell her more about Day, about all the courts, but she would have to wait until they had more time. She wanted to cover at least the very basics of each court before she was returned.

"Spring is likely the closest to your traditional little human stories." He ignored her withering look. "And likely closest to the social construct of the mortal systems as well, if I had to name a court most similar at least. There are the High Fae and then there are the rest. The villagers are protected by the sentries and other precautions we provide, and they pay Tithe twice a year in return. Fae are born into their roles and usually remain in the same type their entire family has always been in. Most don't try to change that."

"So. Spring is boring then? In comparison at least,” she pondered out loud before she could consider her words before speaking them. Spring was gorgeous and suited her interests in gardening, and was clearly one of the more comfortable courts to reside in, but the restless part of herself was not interested. 

What a horrifying thought. What was _wrong_ with her?

He slightly choked on his drink, setting it down and clearing his throat. "Boring?"

"Yes. Dull." She watched her plate, thinking everything over. "Comfortable - perhaps that's a better word. But…" She tasted the word on her tongue before speaking it. "Unsatisfying." 

He pushed his plate aside, his arms bracing against the table as he leaned over it, much closer to her as he spoke. She blinked up at him, thrown off by his change in demeanor. 

"And what _would_ satisfy you, dove?" The low purr of his voice registered so deeply within her that she felt nearly her whole body flush. 

Her eyes broke from his intense and mismatched ones to look down at the table. She parted her lips to attempt to respond but she couldn't think of a reply, which only made her cheeks burn hotter. 

She felt her hands slide into his, his curiously soft like her own despite how she knew how hard he worked and trained, and he pulled them towards him until she was forced to rise from her seat to meet him halfway over the table, the air leaving her lungs as their lips were suddenly only a breath apart from each other. 

One of his hands broke from hers to reach up and she was unable to stop herself from leaning into his hand again, her eyes squeezing shut as his fingers glided along her scalp and fastened in her hair. She held back a sigh of contentment.

_How_ could something so small feel so exquisite? 

She and Graysen had exchanged touches. Innocent touches, yes, but still many more than she had had with Lucien. Yet all of them together did not compare to the few she had shared with her mate.

Their breaths mingled together and she breathed him in, losing track of the room as she took in the warmth of him - the tranquility in being surrounded by him and enveloped in his scent. The tip of her nose just barely brushed against his as her breath caught and she leaned forward. 

Just as he leaned back. 

Her eyes opened to watch him look out the window, considering the light of day. He released her hair and pulled away completely, her hair running through his fingers as he moved. "We have to get you back."

She didn't move for a few moments as he stood, straightening his clothes and walking away to grab both of their jackets, her mouth open slightly in disbelieving offense. 

"Something the matter?" His voice was curious, innocent. 

_Prick_.

"No," she said, frowning and looking at him even more curiously, even more innocently as she slid down from the table, moving around it to take her jacket with a grateful and polite smile. 

"Good," he murmured, holding it open before she could grab it, looking down at her with gentle eyes as she stepped into it and wrapped it around herself tightly.

She squeezed her eyes shut as dread clouded her thoughts, forgetting her annoyance towards his teasing. "You…"

"Hmm?" She felt his hand cup her chin, his thumb stroking along her jawline. 

She sucked in a breath before opening her eyes to look up at him, her eyes wide as she didn't bother to hide how apprehensive and worried she was. 

She was completely and entirely at his mercy as everything relied on what he was willing to do for her. 

"You will come for me, right?" She covered his hand with hers. "Please?"

He scowled as though she was being ridiculous, pulling back slightly to assess her. He almost looked offended. "Of course I will." He knelt down so they were eye to eye and everything around them seemed to dissolve into nothing again, and the only thing swarming her mind was the swirling of the russet and gold that were his eyes - his captivating, merciless eyes.

"Elain," he said, his tone serious and final. "You are my mate. You are my _world_ ." He made a frustrated sound that resembled a growl. "I don't know how else to spell this out for you. My life - my _soul_ \- _revolves_ around you. I will _always_ be back for you. Always. Unless you ask me not to." He broke off after his voice ever so slightly wavered and trembled. He took a breath. "And even then, if you ever wanted me back, no matter how many years, decades, _centuries_ may have past - I will be back for you."

He stared into her eyes with that nearly unbearable burning sincerity for a few more moments before he began to move back. "Alright, let's get you -"

She made a small, embarrassingly flustered grunt in the back of her throat and she threw her arms around his neck before he could straighten completely, yanking him down to her. Their lips didn't meet perfectly at first, and she could feel his lips curl into a smile against the side of her mouth before he shifted, his hand slipping around to the small of her back as he connected his lips to hers properly. 

Her cheeks had warmed at the initial embarrassment of being so uncoordinated, but the feeling was gone faster than it had come and she knew nothing other than what his lips felt like against her own. He dipped down slightly so she could properly angle up against him and she desperately pressed herself closer.

More, more, more. 

That's all her mind would chant - would offer her. She wanted to scream at herself in frustration. She had little to _no_ experience when it came to kissing males.

She tightened her arms around his neck, her lips parting and her tongue meeting his. Her whole body hummed in delight when a quiet, breathy groan rumbled through him and she whimpered softly when she felt his teeth graze her lower lip, threatening to bite down. He forcefully dragged himself back at the sound and she could feel his agonizing struggle to control himself. He pulled away because he _had_ to, because he wouldn't be able to stop if he didn't. 

And the fact made her have to catch a purr that was ready to slip from her throat.

She struggled to calm her breathing into something casual, attempting to play it off rather than panting and swooning at him like an idiot. She had kissed him. The first kiss with her mate and _she_ had kissed _him_. 

He gathered her close to him and she slid her hands up his chest, attempting to ready herself for him to begin the nauseating winnowing journey while she was still reeling from what had just happened between them - all while _he_ was perfectly composed again, the infuriating, perfect and practiced bastard.

But she knew better. He couldn't compose himself internally, and what was internal was something he _couldn't_ mask from her. 

"I will see you at the High Lord meeting. After then everything will be discussed and taken care of. Hang in there for me until then, beautiful. Please." 

He placed a long and gentle kiss to her temple and they were gone before she could reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I know people love the Night Court, but I wanted to mix things up a bit (and we need drama and conflict somewhere, eh?). I also just love the idea of exploring other courts. As always, apologies for the likely mistakes due to my poor and rushed editing skills!


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